if I had the tools
the tools to shape snow into feelings
if I had those tools
the tools to shape snow
my heart would never run cold
if I had the tools
the tools to shape snow into feelings
if I had those tools
the tools to shape snow
my heart would never run cold
snows are approaching
winds change direction
dreams fly higher still
roses carnations
all the reds in the snow
flowers for the future
flowers for the now
inspired by Mary
look north
more snow on the hills
sun glints on out-tide sand
emotions need no metaphor
snow falls from an empty sky
a single tear from your cloud-blue eyes
The two grey men sitting on the park bench
look away from one another
across the scuffled snow.
Both have hats, neither wears gloves.
Scarves are tucked into overcoats.
Their hands must be cold
and their feet too in the thin leather shoes.
Then they turn and look towards each other;
their eyes smile
and their fingers touch.
The ice-blue air is suddenly less bitter.
Tomorrow they will be here again.
let us go out into the snow hand in hand we two
and if the snow should fall
and we should fall
and the snow should cover us
so be it
under the snow grass
dreaming of summer sunlight
under the snow hope
snow drifts in white flags
lineless seamless blankness
below the surface green roots
I see you there
in the velvet spaces
between the snow and pines