snow leopard
soft, yet ...
like a breath of Noshaq
you are gone in a whisper
bound for some dreamy realm (imagining)
where exquisiteness affords you
a throne in Valhalla …
you dance among the frosted peaks
like Misha with the Mouse King
prancing on a puff of wint'ry wind
yearning for the bloom
of early Spring
the nuzzle of a warm nose
or the easy gift
of a frozen lake of swans
hush, you ...
about your business
secret stories you tell to the mountain
of visceral attentions, keen
wondrous things that we lesser creatures
will never be privy to -
things that you find your common bidding
but that fools like me -
wholly taken with sublime form
and ghostly airs -
find spellbinding ... breathless
enchanting ...
you are a feral phantom
demon AND deity of a covert kingdom
I am cursed to only conjecture on
or put to inadequate word ...
a magical dominion of
deliberate and brutal elegance
that has graced me with but a glimpse
a rare, tender, precious instant
blessed by the substance of a moment
far too beautiful to ever
capture.
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