The stillness has finally settled,
It is as though the arctic night
Has lent its voice to the sunny day.
And I can hear branches swaying softly
In the wind, like wings preparing for flight.
And my own heart leaving
To be caressed by the pointy light hands
Of stars, as it listens
To the softly humming breath
Everything is inked on eternity’s star white skin.
A trail vanishing behind a a layer of snow,
Days breaking against our stone chiseled
Consciousness, and nights
Falling like moonlit grace
on our well traveled tracks.
It doesn’t matter if you have frail,
Frozen hands, or that your veins
Have turned blue from shoveling
Too much frost.
Your soul is a reindeer
Finding light to nourish
Your heart, even if it is,
Like lichen, hidden
Under layers of hardened
I can still see it, like sea foam
Or snow adrift on iced over lakes.
Like words hanging from trees
Heavy with their winter whipped load.
Like days and days of quiet shimmer
When the moon falls upon earth,
Sharp and steady, like the dip
Of a bird’s tail,
Leaving an ephemeral time stamp
Like the shadow of a robin in a white field.
But that is how it is with angels,
It is always that which we cannot trace
That we remember the longest.