winter

Winter

White, icy snow

Dripping death into the veins

That rest like the snow

On tops of trees

Each spindly branch by branch

This Christmas Day

Death comes over youth

Like a freight train in the night

A polar express caravan

Full of thieves

My mother passed away around 3 AM this morning. I've spent most of the day calling relatives and making arrangements with the funeral director (I meet face-to-face with him tomorrow) and talking my dad through this. She was 61.