My heart is at home in the wet flakes that coat the black city in dreamy slumber.
Ice cold winds sting the cheeks like bitter promises too sweet to keep.
There is a familiar resonance to as winter makes her grand entrance. She doesn’t play for keeps, this is just a taste of her white wonderland. Tomorrow will be grey slush & tepid salutations.
In the middle of the night everything hangs perfectly crystal serene. As home settles into my heart for the year. My bones welcome the aches & chill if only for the thrill of being alive trying to start a fire in such a frigid place.
Count snowflakes on the glass. Each one a wish. Longing for those long silent nights walking arms crossed following a single star calling with my name on it.
Holy in her transience.
Melting stars on my tongue.
Wishing on light passing.
The snow will be gone by morning.