There is darkness
some afternoons
as the sun begins to blink
back behind the shoulders
of the black mountain.
It calls to me,
this darkness licks my ankles
Sweetheart,
come to the tip
of the slippery top step,
let's teeter and test
the density of emptiness
falling underground.
Then there is the light
singing from the soft curves of snow.
I am having a love affair
with God.
The sweet honey of belonging.
Remembering.
She says
Dear child
you are loved. We are
always breathing.
Step into the sovereign snow
of sacred stillness.
We will thaw as one,
into spring.
I have never loved the winter
quite as fully
as I now love
this sober snow.