blades of winter

the days are short

of pale light

reflected

on the surface

of the blades

of winter

the leaves

make their beds

on the ground

cleaving to one another

the wind

entones a different music

among the nude branches

we walk

through the flames

of memory

its swords

unsheathed

‘neath tenuous skies

absorbing the colors

of the distant sun

requires patience

when I notice

its nature

edge and cavern

I find the point

of  equilibrium

--Lorena © 2011