Outstretched into a warm, fetching wind that will define this winter.
Frustration and reaching,
One more time.
Grasping my lumbering, cold body
Pulled from a creek,
Thundering in flood.
Will soon hold me, bedridden and tired of the years,
In April, as the sun’s hope returned
And I slipped easily into the familiar light,
Cast across us both in one last embrace.