ITS CARD FLAT

winters late dawn is golden blue
like over a frozen santa toyland

frost
clings
heavily 
on spiders half-thought webs like tinsel

the leaving night is a black smudge
and
i
turn
to see what the dawns got - its like a pic from a card
from 
a 
christmas greeting card 

and just as flat

theres a drawn sliver of fingernail moon 
and one dab of star thats a planet
no holy men
just a parade of vans
and a flat cut-out silhouette of black lung trees

later going home the sun is on the other side
and it falls and bleeds
keeping
almost still
and
playing with the rips in the clouds