For Paul Brookes’ challenge. You can see the photo by Julian Day that inspired the poem here.
When the winter king
When the winter king blows cold,
frost-breath furring the roof,
even the clouds crack like black ice,
gold in his crown stolen
from the failing sun, while
we hunch before the fire,
ruffled and fearful as pigeons,
cold to the marrow
of our slender bones.
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