Ever softly, winter creeps upon the last arcs of native light

glacial nights unfurl into the damp where creatures slow,

leaves crackle in to dusty crimson

tucking in between snowflakes’ whispers,

rallying, their cadre bids farewell and quickly

smothers last season’s tender breath

My steadfast heart begins to quiver through a familiar blanket

woven of ardor’s wool and swathed in sentimental coos

now shivering, for recall of that winter when

one moment two hands entwined, next,

a single palm the cupel for a vapor trail, soon to dissolve

into the contemptible pangs of broken promise.