Another winter
on the fringe
of a lifetime.

Another winter
wielding blades of wind
that could slit hearts
and cold that
could break bones
and God somewhere in
all this despite
the drama
I curse and embrace.

On the other
side of sorrow
a chatty and giddy
Earth waits.

Come back to me,
green-hearted counselor,
pharmacy of sound,
my leafy shrine
where miracles
are soft
and mostly
undiscovered.

If the same God
that concocted forests
with the scent of
moss and espresso—
the scent of home—
still lives
then spring never left
and I'm back at the
beginning with the
turn of a thought,
with a universe in
my pocket and
all things outside
the mind's door . . .

Alive.

Shine with me,
slabs of new snow,
chains of ice,
shattered zodiac
piercing the vacuum
with the same stories
through new eyes.

Melt into
spirit and creation
as I climb the night . . .

loving past the fear
into the Kingdom,
warm in the
Fire within.


Patricia Joan Jones