SEEKING WINTER’S BEAUTY

Beneath my dried scorched hand,
Hides an object of magical delight.
In this world; this sun scorched land,
It resides, alone, seeking the night,
When the winds blow down
From mountain peaks;
From beyond these heated grounds,
Carrying the memory of what it seeks.

It was a time of fallen leaves,
When first I came upon her face;
When frost blossomed on the eaves;
Oranges and reds carpeted with grace
The land, waiting the hiding time,
When winter’s breath would blow its kiss,
As I await her downward climb.

She then danced
To the songs in the winds;
Teasing me with pirouettes, she pranced;
Circling me, touching gently, without pretence.
As my tongue sought her moistness,
And a shiver coursed my spine,
I fell upon her softness,
Finding an angel in a moment divine.

But then, too soon,
Came a day of loss;
When, following the dark new moon,
A time of fire arrived at great cost
When the winds became gusts
Of drying, trying pain;
Tearing her from me, leaving only dust;
Washing her with their acid-like rain.

So, now, I dare not release this grip
Of this piece of magical love,
This final part of all that has slipped
Away, until, the mountains above
Capture, in their journey eternal,
The frosty chariots in which she rides;
And returns her to me in the coming fall
That I may release her to where a new angel resides.