The frost has everywhere
Spread with glittering white
And the air is still and silent
Not one breath of breeze
Moves the stark and naked trees
And the dawn is peace

                                By Phil Roberts

Love begins, where words end.

Some wounds will never heal fully. And with every memory they're bleeding a little bit.

But it's your choice, if you die because of them.

where and ever came
down through the centuries
of myth and mystery

fallen from stars making
dust on memory
or tongues laden

with silken fronds
tasted of the ****** ponds
first created

or earths pushing pulse
felt and trying to
recreate the solemn

bit of pounding heard
like the taste of an apple
bit

and God pounding fists
in Heaven seen
or Norse Gods

or the Saturn  Neptune
Greeks colliding
to make

us wiser then

thunderstorms the soil fertilized by those before
the long score dread of autumn
the killing cold of three months of winter
the bones calcium

the work of maggots
the rotting excrements
the boiling mad wolf growl
the poor rabbit's soul gone

the world spinning around an axis
of the strongest surviving hot gasses
or the moon influencing the rising
fall of tides

mountains of ashes oceans of sediment
the seeds left last year
and those long forgotten
that keep

in their knowledge their inevitability
the genetics the flowering new rose
brightening in the sun
this spring