stay the hand
stay the heart
door ajar
the window sash
words dormat as crocus quiet
the fallowing year
behind yet still silent
each sweeping second
memories drench
this fierce & fragile mirage set
as sparrows and chinook breezes
melt the snow
pulse the breath to passage narrow
new year's wonder glow
lenticular clouds mark the blue
altering hours to silver passages
tucked between oak branches & distant highways
sleepy grows the morning as pine siskins follow the sun
allowing the richness of corners & dust motes to beckon
the stars
carved ring of wood black
summer green grass
horses & tumbleweeds
of first snow smell
handfast
pressed to stars & rivers path
the wonder of heart to night
flesh to air cold with winter's snap
sliding thru the inbetween
time tumbles marbles on a sidewalk
sixty years on
through a lens polished by a winter's sun
one finds an imprint of death traced upon skin grown accustomed to solitude
lacquered by sixty years of summer cherries
and hope
Oh what wonders lie just beyond this day
tucked into time & stars & the smell of blue
what remarkable brilliance rests alongside the cut
so sharp the angle of winter light
deceivingly soft the drifts of snow
weary the day
dark will be the night
following the brightness of this winter sun