Chancy

Chancy,
Nothing Fancy.
Down the chimney.
Are you with me?

Flapping chamber.
Darkened danger.
Waiting, listening,
Outside glistening,

For the moment
At the instance.
Sooty shackles
In the distance.

Black to white.
Snow alight.
Winter vane.
Virus strain.

Thanks be to Jesus
And all the saints.
Some’s luck that is
Cept those that ain’t.

Along the crevice
For a breath.
Heat exhaustion,
Met their death.

Made their bed.
Mined their manners.
Razed the house
With nails and hammers.

Brick a brack.
Got your back.
Cozy coffin.
Come here often?

Often enough,
Once in awhile,
To call your bluff
And Death beguile.