There were winds
On nights we had stayed
Which kept me awake
Before dreaming
After thinking long
About winter
And staring outside
Into dusk

At trees which danced
Over cliffs
Beyond our view
Through that window
During midnight’s fall
Each November
Being far from home
Near those woods

Soon settling down
Losing track
Of some holiday warmth
Nearly passing
After moments seized
Became memories
Feeling hotel rooms
Remain still

Turning cold
Though dwindling fast
Towards an anxious rest
Grown recurrent
Fearing visions
Twisted by worry
Gone atomic now
As they hit

Since bombs had dropped
Leaving snow
Atop old brown shacks
Under mountains
Where we huddled close
All together
Until death itself
Turned us white

Learning faith
Was forever a choice
Knowing love
Would never diminish
What explosion
Tainted such innocence
While loud static
Ruled the TV.

• J. Pigno