For the dverse prompt, a loose sort of a sonnet. This coldest time of the year is when the Mozart Requiem haunts, coming up to the anniversary of Wolfie’s death.
Lacrimosa
Winter, the dead time,
when leaves long-withered
and stripped by gales, rot
beneath the frost, rime
on every dry leaf,
and ice crusts the puddles
in cart ruts, bitter
and sharp as grief.
Beyond the winter window, snow
fell, softening sharp black angles,
on the hearse with stamping horses,
stars on black veils. Below,
winter snow fell in frozen tears,
as you joined the music of the spheres.