If it gets much keener

I will sync into the brilliance of heart-thought

layered in pink folds of tender softness

My crimes of glory

of glee

of gladness

are consumed inside the blanket

its softness upon my lap


With Snow White wrap

I cover myself in

with the wind


In the snow

at night

when I’m playing

I am praying


When I’m lying

soft peaks are rising

in the stillness of almost sleep

I feel the arms of the hearts of my loved ones inside this lamb-like skin

this fleece cap of free-flowing thought

I am the wind as it whispers through the leaves


So please these leaves

the river steals them but to us they cleave

They do not burn

they do not gather

They are trod upon with snow and rain and the feet of man

but they exist always in the soil

Let’s bring them back to life

for in the blooms they shall not spoil.