The sun bleeds upwards.

If I could not see
I’d miss the bare black branches
Against dim burgundy.

Trees nod heads gently
Accepting night fall and moon
Neon light, vulgar

Dark blue,plum, soft grey
The sun dies bleeding , upwards.
As it sinks to darkness

Would I notice skies
If I wasn’t alone searching?
I found more wool gloves

I found wrist warmers
It is no longer freezing cold
But no warmth

Darker and darker
Now the branches join the sky
All plum velvet deep