Hungry but Clearer

Winter gardens asleep under a hungry but clearer Wolf moon. Pain loses its bitter quality when the body finds the bottom. Does my song reach moonlight's ears? Does my surrender glow like the blue snow in your midnight? In the night of my senses the answers are clear. Sunrise is always coming.

Sleds sleeping in snow banks and azalea leaves curled tighter than a cigarette. Arctic air sinks from the top of the world as wood-smoke tries to find a way higher. January makes a play and all I can do is kneel. I've never seen a winter lacking this many birds. This and other sorrows that have no choice but to be reconciled.

But there are still summer weddings in Vermont and rivers always running from their source. Garden plans and compost piles hedge the barefooted chill scuffling through the house. Things are so quiet now. Even my heart. Even these filmy nests which used to hold the intentions of us.

Blacker coffee and brown sugar oat meal, both steaming in a perfect dance. Has love sunk to the soul, beyond the senses, to find its mooring? I'm trying to offer peace, beloved. Show me what I want.