


When winter lies down
Upon we dreamers
Her eternal evening,
Will we let our eyes fall
Heavily?
Beneath indigo quilts,
She weaves rich violets
And in her dark and cumbersome silence,
She whispers constellations,
Like quiet combinations,
Into our eyes
That we might rise
Like suns, and,
Guided by her atlas,
Dance on our own axis
To the fantastic song
Of the summer within.
-mmd 2019.