Winter's Repose

This sly winter raised its bare,

wide arms, stark and still

with empty expectation,

buried leaf and whispering,

mock-spry bud under

pristine, chill blanket-

silent as a haloed

moon in quiet gestation.

Under the glass of a slippery,

sleeping pond-

my face, hair billowing,

keeping breath,

gazing, hands pressed,

feather light against the pale,

on a churning bed

of autumn's

rippling waters...

I wait, let each

dormant cell-

snowflake, new code erected

under layers of  

plush, compensatory,

white.