Every shade

Sadness prefers winters.
Takes these little walks
in the mossy darkness.
A cutting wind rips apart
the unscarved faces
into peels of laughter.
Distant rattles ground to a halt.
The grass is alert to the foot steps
and the dew forms like sweat
out of a patient wait.
Nothing escapes its memory.
A cage of realities.
Every particle has its place
and every shade its face.