What Is Winter To Me

What is winter to me that it smother

with host of heavenly fingerprints?

What is it, and who am I that its 

snowflakes take their rest of me?

Unabashed white, hilt of pure, bidden

common to bid common.

Let us say...we know of such things to

know not of such things...awestruck's

mainstay.

Such things are not of discerning order--

but go to the eyes and remain there, as

steadfast with world or other of like.

I submit, tiptoe intrigue by gaping ear of

slumbering angel.

Wrap me with mine own arms, with 

increase to countenance witness I bore.

Where I, upon their falling was--and will

be for time to come.

What is winter to me that it smother

with host of heavenly fingerprints?

What is it, and who am I that its

snowflakes take their rest of me?

Come now I, to know...come now winter

to know, by line of lowly poet to lowly

snowflake--nothing is spent, and not known.

Konstantinos Mark

Reviews

[asdarkeyesclose]

'What is it, and who am I that its
snowflakes take their rest of me?'

some strong images throughout. i liked the repetition and the ingenuity. a portrait of winter that embraces the poet. stunning!

[...]

. oh, how beautiful ...
. this is a song i could sing forever ...