Reach over and turn out the light
on the day that is leaving us,
my Love,
blue twilight escaping
into the January snow.
We have worked hard
side by side
shoveling away the grief
of our lives,
and now we must rest
nuzzled against each other.
Kiss me sweetly, just like we did
in the spring--while we held the hand
of hope
with the wonder of the crocus
against the cold.
Oh the crocus: so much like our hearts
need to be;
beautiful, strong
ready to risk exposure, fragile.
Hoping, beyond hope, that the troublesome snow
will melt quickly
so that a new season can begin,
new and noticed
by those who are looking
carefully.
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