Never freer, than the moving wood on
bitter breeze,

once sweet.

Air, which claimed a forest,
contracts flesh    still.

Only bone
shall run from here;
Blood and guts
surrendered;

Sphallolalia
-left at the edge of day-
in sunlights' slanting strobes.

And there...                         
              always there
                             (stays hidden)              
                  amongst wisps of mist;

Wistful, weary,
supping dew from
far reaching branches.
                                            Feet bare...

Hair tangled
from the escape of night,
in shaded visions.

**Yet,
sometimes,
there is just the
wood & no trees.

March hares light Her way through putti dawn*
~fecundity spreading beneath bare feet~
  as grey paschal masses embrace
rebirth.

By paper-lantern light

flames colour a snow crystals dance, beautifully enchanting, to

the distant sound of singing; Joyous songs of celebration, lulling all in revelry. Each note heard

in silent reverence, beneath the skeletal canopy of majestic oak spread. Where from amongst the

damp branches,wise old saucer eyes calls "Ubi? Ubi?", heralding a cacophony of wide-eyed

whispers. This afternoon, sweet twilight guides our paths as we search on ever onward journeys

unknown; Our arms collecting firewood, to fill the empty hearths of others. Unaware of the cold

hands, we are, when there's such warmth in our hearts. We toil within the stillness,  

snow falling softly,and covering the crisp ground.         From deep beneath
        
         the dazzling pure white,                                     tiny hibernating animists   

blink wide from the                            warmth of hidden

 woodland beds.                        Gently,         
   sweep the                   12 droplets
                             of ice from                 all our eyes, Sol,                   
                             as we cough        darkness                                
                     from our      lungs,                       
                       watching the sparkles     of no                                              
                      matter,  floating                  
in the  paper-
            lantern light            
       to scatter across    
this   Solstice   sky,
illuminating our fates,
as cold  snowflake hearts
twinkle like falling stars, unseen,
turning, embracing the return of the Light