To God

By:  Jeffrey Subramanian

 Father – winter is here, the air is cold,

Snow fights with sun to rule the barren land,

The landscape is a shroud, the sky is bland,

The mountains, silent – the slick black ice, bold.

The evening sky turns yellow, red, then green –

Students walk home with gloves, boots, scarves, and hoods –

The twigs are empty, all the autumn’s goods

Have fallen away, despoiled themselves, and seen

Death first-hand. In a lonely, cluttered room

I write to thee, enticing thee to stay

With me until I reach the final doom,

And shame or glory makes my endless way –

For I intend to stay upon the loom

Until the sisters snip me into Day.