In a round globe, silver, perfect
on Christmas’ holiday green tree,
I catch you in a smile,
mirrored there somehow
not knowing I see you.

Then to cold December’s bower
comes a warming fire,
heart aflutter, dilated eye,
all I can see is you near-by.

From woody evergreen
spirits soar aloft
to join in a kiss, lips touching
in perfect Chagall mode
in a luminous mist,
drops of light, liquid soul of life,
spirits existential,
all harmony and air
float together there—

Two swallows you and I
darting through the purple sky,
ascending.