In those days, we were coffered
With memories, like snowflakes
That drove in from out of town
Floraling out of clouds
Drifted, floated down and
Veiled our minds with passion.
Gazing at our frozen feet,
Murmured softly, said we had
No need for sneakers -
Samewise, wanted no shoelaces
Except to tie our shirtsleeves
Up so we could show off
The spiderwebs on our wrists
And our pointy, jointy elbows.
Cowering, crawling crassly beneath
Trees which long ago had lost
What foliage they once boasted
Of green, sunny days, now
Supplanted with an icy winter blaze
Moments pass; we are:
Camp-making between snow
Drifts in and out and in, making
Igloos out of turtleskins.
Treebranch snapping sounds
Like sapping on a winter day
Dulled by walls within which
We (shiverback and I) alone
Mimic arbors outside, our shoulders
Turn aside, the skin splits
Leaving gaping, gurgling
Gasping chasms.
Sinew, muscle, blood and bone
Wanfeather down and up again,
Shiverback looses her wings
And I mine: holding hands
We fly away from winter.
