red tail glides
across the grey –
steely force to wander
silent as a brush
of ancient blues
curves against my coffee cup
whispers of the moon
hiding just beyond
the cedar line

miracle of miracles
who am I to choose
between the life I know
the one I am –
fragrant as wisteria
blooms beneath the frost
wishes for December
nothing more –

beauty plays
within the light
of one more morning after
glows within the essence
evermore
barefoot girl
and virgin snow –
who will find me missing
left as tracks
divine into the wool

. . .