...back in Duncanville, TX.

I remember those Hallow, crisp eves,
when Jack Frost commenced his nibble.
I recall, blankets of toasted leaves
once accompanied summer's reprieves,
with the shingle's frost's A.M. dribble. 

Now, marching blazes run amuck,
boiling seasons slated for chilled rest.
Hellish gales now reign, stubbornly stuck,
fervently fueled by each big dumb truck.
The lush now mirrors Texas' west. 

The oaks are robbed of their sense to morph
'cause Pale Face longed to never be full.
Even though their bloated guts dwarf
all works to build humble and plain dorps, 
white-hot fears detest when Mother is cool.

The root of winter's grizzly demise
lies anchored in unexamined dreads. 
The compoundment of a little white lies,
of disappearing blondes with blue eyes,
marked all not moving for profit "dead."

This sense of genetic erasure
condemned Nature to ongoing rapes. 
Vague panic is torching the glaciers,
ignoring the melting thin razors
upon which bears, fowl, and seals escape. 

The Pale Face wants man to cheer on
eighty degrees at Christmas Eve.
And, the collective, consumer pawns,
who waste useful leaves, weekly, from lawns,
beg, plead, and demand to be deceived. 

The "Joneses" just, plain, means "whiteness."
We've destroyed all homes just to "keep up." 
Us following "white" dimmed Earth's brightness.
Perhaps, melanin rule's right for us
in keeping our last roof right-side-up.  

Until then, Earth will broil and hiss.
What once meant scheduled slumber for all
is now time to miss what we once dissed.
Snowmen stopped signaling Christmas
around 2021, The Fall. 

Winter suffered a gruesome death: 
"Asphyxiation by status lust."
Our yards, jeeps, and flights sucked every breath.
Just to flex on others, we spewed Meth
greedily, trashing The Maker's trust.

Minimalism doesn't mean "broke."
It means slow quotes like "Drill, baby. Drill."
aren't baseline noise to most sane folk.
If collective grief is not evoked,
We've cleared future babies to be killed.

From the Soul,

---

“Winter Is Dead” is a piece from my upcoming published anthology, “Return from the Pale Trail: Gifts to Humanity We’ve Been Taught to Forget.” I’m ecstatic to share this wonderful piece of literature with the family. I hope you all enjoy. Until then, feel free to check out my other published materials.