When Winter Enters the Heart
When winter enters the heart,
snowflakes gather in rosy chambers.
Like ghosts of crows-every breath throbbing.
Sluggish songs of longing and loneliness.
Over time the crows pile on,
my, my, how they live to pile on.
Like frost on the bones
bones of long-ago loves...
Suffocating songs, leaving an avalanched refrain.
While the soul is still flowing and howling.
Like an early winter stream-nobody dares to cross...
Those icy blue-eyed thinning veins.
There is a flock of warmth in every winter heart.
Buried beneath the dead songs of crow and time.
They just need a pinch of flint and pine.
To release the warmth from the glowing.
My, how they beat to release rose-budded songs...
from a million springs ago.
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