© Steve King
All rights reserved
As
I look out on winter, I recall
the
night we took that long and rutted road
away
from a familiar highway
to
peer beyond a veil of swirling snow
on
the expanse of vast Ontario.
We
paused along the hard and bitter shore
imagining
some far horizon there.
An easy reach, or so it seemed to me,
An easy reach, or so it seemed to me,
enfolding
our discrete eternity.
We
strode on currents hidden through the ice
and
glossed the secrets of that unknown depth;
two
unlikely figures setting forth,
to
mark a presence with each random step.
There
came no warming aftermaths to this,
nor
frozen moments halting our design:
one
interlude supplanted by a next,
enough
to match the reasons of the time.
The way it was in winter, one day when...
And
now is winter so much part of me
that
I can just recall that early glow.
The
fires are banking now; and even so,
I
still can say that it was well enough,
when
once we lingered far from strut and show,
to
dance with our desires in the snow.
A new poem for d'Verse OLN
