In these snow-laden times–
when the ground is light–
the windy trees whine,
and I think of a lakeside respite,
which trembles in the white
landscape so unnervingly calm,
and still in the frozen bright
unerring winter psalm.
Yet in the warmth of soul
our solitude we sought
hands together, and whole
conversations quietly fought
by years of distraught
patience of one soul to the other–
while the lake rests in thought
we glance from snow to each other.
