Winter, and the trees are whispered ice
I pause to pull your coat together
Down beyond the fountain, devoid of movement.
My fingers feel as brittle as sheet glass
Pressed to the soft yielding flesh of your lips
Breathing, of clouds grasped from the air.
This was the end of sight, before you came
The grey paled slumber of the dark months
The sky a vein about the break open
Flooding the earth with colour and light
We are invisible to the seasons now
To the geese hurtling for scattered crumbs
And the swans in their life long mating-dance.
You take a picture, of light’s reflections
And mention the element of water turned ice
But here and now, love is our element
And we are in it…