with only the cold for company.
Giant oaks buttress a frail sky,
mute branches interlace
in a frieze of premature sadness.
Once we two walked in defiant youth,
sniffed woodsmoke, kicked
winter discards high into pale air,
laughed with the certainties of love.
I remember your sweater, bronzed
your lips bright promises.
But your words hid a chill climate,
withered like leaves in an unforgiving wind.
Now I trust bare earth;
like a bird on a dead branch, watch
for the first hint of green.