walking slowly in the sunshine,
my cold ears start listening to
the song of this season.
it’s a tune of ferocious wind
and a deep ache in the bones,
and all these things that are changing,
none of which we can control.
and then i thought i heard you singing,
my own little words spilling from your lips:
weighty prayers and quiet promises
that you didn’t think i’d hear.
(we’re singing the same song, you and i;
even if we don’t know it yet.)
i stay awake
in the wintertime:
but always dreaming.