Fallowed

the withered branches grope upwards          as if hoping for something better
on this ice-dead morning,                                I walk among the glaciers by the trail ,
the small things staggering in gusts               looking for the sun.

in the skeleton branches                                  I find a ghostly peace
so much is frozen still                                       in these thawing days

the creatures forget the warmth                     the surging dawn will bring
and yet huddled they whisper of                    rising rivers, wilted icicles,
fledgling light filtering down                           and the end of numbness.

there is comfort in the hands                          clutching tomorrow
that share their ache,                                        I think of the people who hold me close
embracing frostbitten fingers                         even when winter freezes my tears

through the fallow branches                           the sun rises up,
the rays begin to land                                       stirring my feet towards your house
a reminder that no pain can last                    and there is nothing I can give but thanks.

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