Alphabet of Days (23)

23.

Winter Poem

This wind has a mouth
for winter. And such
an irresistible urging
to give my silence
a home for the night.
Rain to ice to dawn,
dark broodings, not bad,
just a mystery I don’t want
to solve, but I choose
to close the book, turn off
the lamp, then listen
for your breathing,
for blood thumping
through your heart,
for the soft groan
that is my life.