Winter

By Kimberly Orr

come, let us press silver

(dripped

from

heaven)

into the earth

(cold and cluttered with shadows)

let the dark roar in our ears and

blue wind finger our cheeks!

(smoke coiffeurs round chimneys and

orange hisses at oak and pine)

in silence

one to each confides that

time gathers to burst the black

and wine flows early to flood the hills...

what song murmurs in our brains

as we beat against the hours

aching for the long nights to stay...