Open hips
Open lips
Open throats
Open arms
Open minds
Open ears

Where are the open hearts?

January blues are bittersweet,
Red berries stand resistant to the mourning frost.
death lingers amongst the trees, reigning over a white paradise.
A delicate green **** blows like a flag in the snow, refusing to surrender.

A paradise lays amongst the remains for those willing to see.
cradled in the arms of a great oak, under a blanket of a thousand stars.

You,
with your freckles
and your crazed brown eyes,
you can't help it.
Those longing sighs and
warped sights only for me.
Your breath is a songbird, your voice
a flock of birds all in harmony.
You are like the ocean,
the sky and the hazy,
confused line between them -
endless and effortlessly immense.

You will not see me until
four full-moons circle earth

when I burst forth late
May with colors flush

red as *******,
ivory, and blush pink;

it is winter now
and I rest.