Scintillating Squint in Dead of Winter
Like an eye looking out through black and blue night.
Scintillating squint in Dead of Winter; looking through
Slat of the Midwinter blind. The Canadian waning of light.
I could have been listening to a sermon, sitting on a pew.
Caught the “deer in headlights,” before the eye closed.
It was like peeping through a hole of the universe; gold.
Tree branches spread out, as if fancy’s figment disclosed.
I’m open to chiaroscuro and the Creator’s diurnal hold.
Could have been an angel’s flashlight, looking for a fleck.
Perhaps where Heaven touches earth, that is so cold.
The wind twines with hymns and the flurries hit the deck.
A groom carries a splendiferous bride across the threshold.
God’s natural art emboldens impressions with constant sear.
The intensity both bold and minute embrace our existence.
Climatically they manifest, grab hold, redirect, and adhere.
Never ending dispersion of colors and seasonal coexistence.
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