Where bleak meets hope the season begins and ends
Strangely, slowly, not with the same joy as other years
perhaps with memory
mixed with desire and images
because the rush is gone.
A long slow walk in the snow
the watchers eye gazing at others
as they pretend to glow
the rare ones who shine a light
we cannot know.
Where does it come from?
The link to warm lights
memory that is new and bright?
The last snow will be very much
like the first snow
the light will fade and come up
like sun or shadow on a