Winter

In a winter’s bed I sleep, a dreamless starless sky above And though the daylight does not keep The snow flies like an aimless dove. The blood orange sun spreads ‘cross the sky like a painting on a wall The artist keeps a watchful eye and wraps the hues in endless squalls. The cardinal with its wings of red Chirps its promises of signs Of those of us who’ve gone ahead to speak of heaven’s unbounded shine. My frozen bones begin to warm around the fire’s roaring blaze Like brittle ice in a winter’s storm, And blanket the horizon’s haze. These sacred days of early moons and late sunrises wrapped in time, For it won’t be long till springtime swoons The tulips from the winter’s grime.