Shimmer of mist
Slurs the warm back of the mountain, and the mist vanishes
Like spray blown back from green waves
Breaking beachward in a brisk wind.
I can't believe it.
What I trust is cold-
Snow flowers with bracts of ice.
We stood in our boots on the sea wall by the bay.
Wintry water nudging the sand sank in.
Snowflakes laced the stinging air,
Crusted the brambles, slid off the shiny rose hips.
Ridged in ice, we held each other close,
Your mouth red, your breath warm, yoiur face wet.
We stood there.
We live apart
In a world not worth the saving.
The years advance.
Our lives like mist or sea spray vanish into them.
No crimson flowers wintering through absence
Gild the rising cold.