I know it to be a romantic notion,
that deciduous trees in winter
should be wearing leafy clothes,
but to see them so naked against the Carolina cold
gives me cause to shiver
and change my thoughts to the heat 'n swelt of summer,
where, I imagine, the trees would be more content
were they down to bark and bone.

There is a light dusting of snow,
and now a light dusting of exhaled me.
The mountain views are spiritual here,
I know you would think the same,
if only I knew the magic spell
to transform my constant thoughts of you
into standing trees,
you would be the lovely forest at my sleeve.

logs 'n lime mortar,
the cabin hearth - dry stack stone,
screen porch - mountain view.

serpentine river
guides my eye - snow cap mountains,
blue shawl sky - white clouds.

I long for
the
shortest line
be  
    tween
                the me of me -and- the you of you.

In the time it takes to write this
fate will have selected thousands
in every time zone,
issuing there last earthly number,
"Recorded death 1:17 p.m. UT..."
For some this will be no surprise,
but to the scions
that are always looking forward,
the nudge from behind
will be jolting.