from permafrost thawed
white arches rising upward
ancient beauty, now
resides on a modern shelf
next to plastic elves for sale

Time takes from us.
What do we take
from time?

We take
nine months
of the life of our mothers.

We take
every sunny hour
from everlasting days
of childhood.

We take
sleep-time from our parents,
waiting up for us.

We take
each
agonizing
second
of last day
of school.

We take
the suspended moment
as eyes lock from afar.

We take
all the precious minutes
when falling in love.

We take
our time
to lift the vail
and kiss.

We take
nine months
of two lives
creating another taker.

We take
the rapidly
evaporating time
of raising our children.

We take
sleep-time from our nights,
waiting for our teenagers.

We take
time slowly,
watching our daughter
walk the aisle.

We take
echoes of times past,
ringing through
empty bedrooms.

We take
time lightly,
years skipping past
incomprehensibly fast
until...

Time takes us.
What, indeed,
do we take from time?

I know where I put them        
that small pile of lovely
underthings
in the back of a drawer
Stuffed away
from my every day
not fit nor fitting
anymore
for an evening
or...

Can't bring myself
to throw them out
Hope is something
you just don't...

'Cause ya never know
when life might pick you up
spin ya round
where it left off
so long ago--

or something like...
that

But anyway--
I came across them

...on that first  
truly warm day of spring
splayed across the mountains
of New York on my way back to PA

Driving through those
Scalloped edges not quite yellow
shy of green
Lace in layers
close to shedding heaven
or from storm's
oblique winds shredding 
that sheen on the foothills
from the humid cool
of earlier that day

Spring knows
right
where she put them

Spring knows exactly what to do
with golden light
...and songs'...
preposterous possibilities
of bloom

Frothy silver
creeps amid the white
reflecting light
in every threaded islet
between the mountains' stream
of silk voile
sheer
and overlain mauve and pink
Those French knots and ribbons
thrill the edges of the road
reaching through the heated veil
longing for the gauzy air
Dogwood hands
sooth the swelling
clouds
above—so pleading—

Please...

to touch that dark
of naked woods
below

...where I left them

...apparently

My apologies to the individual(s) I rather fell for.  I'm sure he thought he was getting somewhere.  I kept trying to dismiss it as nothing, hoping maybe we could find a way., but something was wrong, and I was wrong to even entertain "love in the background."  
I have probably misled.  I was wrong and I'm sorry.  I can leave you only with The Lamb, slain before the foundation of the world and His blood for you to bathe, left below the Mercy Seat in Heaven.  His resurrection was entirely physical and mine will be the same.

John:  20 and 21
Luke: 24

The wind is up and roaring mad
Birds and insects fly between its gusts
There is no other way
to get around
They can hear it coming
Between the crying aching limbs
and begging chimes
The wind is having at it
tossing trash cans down the street
Robbins grounded to the lawns
The wind will have its say
or pitch them against the buildings
like a threat