I followed him far out on snowy plains
to seek from him his bottle made of skins
which bore an herbèd wine, so crimson-stained
that cheeks grew red, and never paled again.
I wanted more; the musk of his strong need
and all the sun he'd breathed into his chest.
I told him low, I'd walk, and weep and bleed
if only he would make me wife, and blessed.
He stopped, and listened deeply to my ache.
His eyes were full of tears, this icy man;
the bottle he proffered, but not his lips.
I watched him tremble there. I thought I'd break.
I felt the cold of all that arctic land,
then drank down pain in priceless, shining sips.
FALL TO WINTER
He finds her sleeping in the ballroom,
weary after many nights of dancing
and as He speaks her name,
she wakes laughing.
she shows the perfect fit
of the gown He’d ordered
for the autumn dances.
She spins like a child,
still fascinated with the way the worn gown
flares around her legs in rich shades
of crimson, brown and gold.
He smiles, and the light of a thousand stars
fills the ballroom.
While she still stands dazzled,
He settles a golden box in her arms.
Joyfully, she throws it open
to find inside
a new gown of glittering white…
a soft gown
a sleeping gown.
“How beautiful!” she whispers,
“Can it really be for me?”
His laugh rings out
like a hundred golden bells in harmony,
as He tenderly helps her slip the worn season
from her shoulders
and slip into the shimmering white.
Before her new gown is entirely fastened,
she is asleep against His chest.
With merry eyes
He sweeps her up,
and carries her to bed.
I DO NOT KNOCK
I do not knock upon the door
where we have found such troubled days
and all our hours moan and roar
I do not knock
I do not knock and this is wise
to bury all the past away
and leave behind my wishful sighs
I do not knock.
I do not knock though time moves fast
and soon we two will part in fact;
you told me things could never last...
I do not knock.