Tattered grey of Winter

            a nova blue stillness

in silence

presses softly

           into the underbelly

            of Spring’s awakening sigh

and the conifers, hirsute &

convivial in their denial of longer days,

            spend quiet the hush of

           peace unfurling like a song

of lightness placed nightly as

calmed the riot of evenings hush –

            there is no other audience

            in the diamond light

of star-swept kindness ministering

like the angels did so many aeras ago,

            in the wherewithal of white, as a

           resonance recoils in the spark of day

           that announces you, my sweetest love –