© 2007 Heather Cardin

twilight

when winter is over
i will recall small agues,
swift passing patiences by the fireplace,
remember waits for celebration,
transitions, inconstant sorrows,
futures frozen immovable as grey.

when winter is over
a shift will occur. melt downs,
first bloom will offer
stamen and pistils.
our children will share
laughter.
                 you will not change,
will breathe
as though yesterday were
only gleams away.

i will cry dirges
for old stories,
mutate in telling,
remind myself
to hold shadows.

light will come.
each shallow movement
a peristalsis east. this short day,
half-formed moon risen
over snowbanks will ride high
past silhouettes
                 of trees,
two birches twined across the way
like skin. after birth.
                           i will anticipate
silver yet to come. unwary angels
hover, will shower us with mercy
and with odes. i shall keep
bamboo good fortune, reach
arms around this lonesome air.

molecules will pass through space,
messengers of Rumi's madness.
i shall become a dervish,
vibrate the heavy dance of
not yet bare but showing signs of wear.

         i shall kindle fire, watch embers glow
until the melt.