winter holds her
barren with beauty's decay
she gives silent flowers of the mind to the cold wind
that transports them like dreams into the distant landscape
she gives her soft heart
to the falling snow
which transpires like a whisper flowing down to melt on soft ground
like a passage of the nights tale told and retold
by the fairest of souls in the solitude of starlight...
so intoxicating is the falling snow
it leaves her with numb lips from the verse unsung
it leaves her with aching in her limbs from
the untried ballet of winters solstice...
such is winter's night
a possession of the snow and cold
a rite to be passed with delicate thoughts...
winter holds her in its hand
and yet even barren she flourishes like a rose blooming
in beautiful spring