A Poem In Winter
Its only when I can touch the snow,
feel it move beneath my weight -
walk across the endless fields
in steaming breaths of cold.
It’s only when I can see the berries,
red as blood on the naked trees
and the black sky gathering winter
into the stillness of the night.
It’s only when I have to turn,
leave the dreams for another day
retrace footprints frozen hard
that lead me back to my life.
It’s only then the words can come,
group themselves around me like stones -
the poem forming slowly in my mind
with the sudden scent of the mistletoe.
Page(s) 18
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