Roused lightly from slumber by the rising wind –
She stirs in harmony
with a chorus of twinkling ice. She sings
a song of immutable yearning
on which to fix the long fancies of night
and the divine ache of morning, tender and unseen.
She divides the season’s signs
into symbols of revelation,
finding secrets in the branches of trees
now that they have been stripped bare of their leaves.
Deep in the evergreen
the warm, cedar heart of winter
keeps Her safe in the hour of longing,
blue shadowed remembrances and fresh vapors appear
where absence bears its sweetest fruit.
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