Tell Me …

Tell me:
Do you smell the snow,
The fall that’s yet to come?

And:
Do you sense the bitter spoor
Of the desperate, hunting
Long tooth cat?
The souls of those she seeks?

The graceful ghosts of
Those who’ve past
Walk with your feet,
Share your eyes and
Speak in your gestures:
The time has come.

I am delight-hearted
That we will
Sit the rib-fire,
Together, this evening;
Feel the unsettling, eastern
White-wolf breath
As it passes
To polish the
Proud, precious spirit eyes
Of winter-sky watchers –
Scrubs the dark-witch distances
Dividing them.

Proud to sing
The pasts with you –
And to dance
Our futures.

12/1/2013

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