Northern Lights

In a highball glass where frost still clings,
A blue aurora softly sings.
Yukon’s fire with Curaçao’s glow—
Two spirits dance in ice and snow.

A splash of Sprite, a fizz, a flare,
Like static charge in northern air.
It stirs the soul, it numbs the lips,
A comet poured in frozen sips.

No barkeep knows quite what it means,
This neon hymn in winter scenes.
It’s part mirage, part bottled sin—
The coldest war you drink within.

So raise it high, this spectral light,
A toast to silence, stars, and night.
One final shimmer in the glass—
Then down it goes. Let darkness pass.