with the faith of love
returning –
clouds beyond the smoke
and poems someone wrote to me
this way –

of serenades
in mid July –
April now forgotten
cept when the night birds
send the chill to bed

and come the frost
to take of vows –
spinning scarlet
dancers
wrapped in stems of lace –
the latest style

wished upon
a morning star
one night in late November –
tied a secret
to a firefly
and waited for the Spring