Six Winter Poems
The morning mist roams back and forth like a voiceless wanderer. More startling than that windowpane red with sun are your ice blue eyes. Deep winterset night. Sleepless stars glide through the sky in aerial ballet. Even Goya’s portraits are less intriguing than faces of frost on my window. A snowflake falls in my surprised eyes …all is black. In our frail world even meteors, the eyes of heaven, fall like dust from God’s hands.