Through all seasons
A cold winter night,
and I read your macramé
by candle light,
listening to L. Cohen’s
Famous Blue Raincoat.
Thick falling snow
quilts a gleaming brain
tree shadows stretch,
skeins of thought
unravel to farmhouse floor
Yearning for days of heat
and light
when skin is warmed,
and zephyr kisses
stipple the pond,
leaning fronds of ferns,
forests of pickerel weeds
with purple blossoms,
clot tender banks,
leaf mulch bottoms,
home to frogs
and snappers
sound of soughing
fir trees
and a July sun oversees
and blesses.
Then,
when autumn breathes,
unfurls her menagerie
of tresses,
and crimson fields of berries
once blue,
blaze brightly
in clear, dry air,
the first frost sequins
the ground,
squirrels and varmints abound
hustling to prepare.
And through all seasons,
your glass stained,
framed
in cabin window,
holds the soft inner light.
Through all seasons
your laugh
echoes
with wind-swept branches
sweeping up the ridge,
across this orb
frozen or thawed,
into my ears astounded.