you took to the
winter
just like your
mother
and buried that
face in its
chest,
while i watched
in envy
from warm side of
the window
where my cheek remains
pressed.
winter
winter fell like
it knew us
and had seen this
time before..
we got too lost to
notice weather,
worried it may
snow forever.
like winter
storm
with little
warning
she blinded me
so gracefully..
so grateful to
be buried.
wiped a snowflake
from your
cheek,
assuming it
was wept,
but a stain of
white was
left
upon skin where
winter
bled.
all this hoping
without
moving
is like waiting out
the winter
with a grudge
draped over my shoulder,
believing it will
remedy
my distaste
for cold.
come now hear
a song
of weary whispers
between
the
tips of
crystal pines
down to find us
where we
breathe
the air that shall
forgive
those of us who
grieve
this timely hymn
of beauty
for the ache
it leaves.
each snowflake shares
a story
to those with
ears for
quiet
nestled in between
the hours
we rest as though
in death.
all powdered lawns
and lowered
blinds
as i drift down
unclear
path
towards frosty
field
coated like a
weighted
blanket
i’d hibernate
beneath.
hands in the garden 
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