Winter’s Song

In the depth of winter,

each day arrives with silence,

apart from the muffled drum

of our two hearts,

beating, in my ear —

though it came without warning,

the trill of a goldfinch,

its chorus of honey

calling me to our window,

outside I discover,

in the tangle of bare branches,

the tiny bird perching

with its plumage ablaze,

golden features adorned

by the sun’s blinding rays —

there I bore witness

to the magic of winter,

as the light danced with dust,

in an atmospheric twinkle,

the gentle awakening,

gave the pine trees permission,

to shake free their

slumbered swaddles of snow —

in a single breath,

the world leapt back to life,

and I noticed the sky burned

a hue of pale baby blue,

with the possibility of spring,

reflecting toward me and you.