(12-29-1997 rewritten 9-6-2015)
the winter comes with icy breath
to chill me to my very bone
i walk beside the roiled lake
and know that i am truly here alone
for who believes what i have said?
who waits for me the lake beside?
the winter kills whoe’er it can
with seasonal affective
(a third reworking of an [utterly unrecognizable] old prose piece)