Yet there you soar,/ white dragon wings/ against a snow-filled sky.
I feel your breath,
cold brush of snizzle, slush against my cheek.
I pour hot coffee, add light cream, white sugar.
You tend to children, help them glide across the ice.
You think of me. When? Never.
We speak each month one minute, two
and one time only
keep our separate hours.
I poke my fingers deep into dark earth
where life seeks warmth or dies.
Yet there you soar,
white dragon wings
against a snow-filled sky.
© 2009 Kåre Enga [166.42] 2009-04-25
Note: lines breaks in stanza 3 are deliberate; pause briefly at the end of each line. Snizzle = snow+drizzle. Note to myself: edited original in my plog entry "166.42** Snow dragon" .