Frigid

Cold creeps through tendrils of Minnesota
Wheat when the moon casts
Blue hues and the Great
Horned Owl hunts.
Another frigid hour elapses.

Once, the muttering of brittle bones
Coupled with sapped breath
Was stifled with strong Jack.
Locked joints stammered,
Abandoned like the road home.

The frigid hours elapse without haste,
Content to plod, a sloth of repetition.
The day protests waning hours.
The moon consumes.
Another frigid hour elapses.

I abandoned the fields
To the owl, and the Sioux.
Years crawled. The mutters of brittle
Bones and sapped breath
Were replaced with longing.

The Minnesota cold is a hearth
Doused by my betrayal. A hand passes
Twelve. I shiver, squint
Into the West's summer sky.
Another frigid hour elapses.