The black heart of summer moves in the sun,
the light soul of winter moves in the snow;
white hands of lily move in the rain,
dark feet of onyx move in the mist.
Black and white,
light and dark;
all the same
under the sky.
Category: snow
Death in the Snow
In the snow, the seat is bare, except for you and a few tidy possessions.
You’ve been down this road before: broken and broke.
There’s nothing like poverty to make you feel like you’ve made the wrong choices. Yet, you are liberated now: free on this bench in the snow.
You think, “How beautiful the snow is as it falls. If I had a poet’s heart, and I was more familiar with words, I would articulate this scene with more purpose and beauty, but I cannot convey this; this is a photograph or a painting…“
You sit still in the snow, and you don’t notice the gun against your head until the jolt ends the falling snow for you.
Your last moments were broke and broken, beautiful and sad, as you thought of the falling snow.
What beauty in your death. Death on the bench in the snow as you sat full of a fading glow until the light turns to darkness.
Now you get the chance to do it all differently.
In a Forest
Standing alone as
clouds move across the shy sky,
thinking of the way
the forest is like your soul
when the snow falls on me slowly.
Sleep between the Snowdrops
Winter holds you frozen within her frosty grasp,
for she’s waited so long for jealous Autumn to go.
Your heart beats slow in her cold wild arms,
yet she knows Autumn’s fate will be her own.
The snow falls on your hair and face to warm you,
as Winter dances her wild cold dance around you.
You love the way the snow makes your body feel,
for your heart is ice and your veins beat glacial water.
Sleep takes you into Winter’s slender arms again,
yet when you wake, the sun shines down on you.
In the ice, you lay as your heart starts to melt,
then as you look left, and then right, you see.
You slept within the pines last night, to your dismay,
only to find you did sleep between the Snowdrops.
The Snowdrops remind your heart that love is well,
as the shoots rise from the ice to find the sun.
Silence in the Snow
blood drips from the knife
such beautiful winter graces
she stands in the sea of pines
a silent face within the snow
dripping red on to white
a Merlot, or is it a Shiraz?
he will never know love’s taste
stabbed to death in the snow
Snow Falls
loose snow falls
from the evergreen pine
upon your face
From the Window
I see a world far away
or somewhere near.
If I could describe
what I see, it would
describe what I
think of you: beauty.
You, with your neat sunlit soul;
You, with sad snow within your soul reflecting light and love.
From the window, I think of you.
C & K 