copeland morris THE YEARNING

Serene and beautiful winter be considerate of us,
Shining of intricate clouds, the saffron and crimson,
Flight and foraging of little sparrows and doves.
It opens a scene where lovers have words, avoid
Further words, and depart. See the bodies shrink,
As small and almost as tense as the birds', at times:
Fault lines under the horns of the moon and Venus.

When skies were whited-out we looked for snow
Hoping winter would treat us at once with mercy
After the Norther blew itself out; and strangely
The yearning fit perfectly in place, when flurries
That whirled lay still, and it was just barely morning.
So the fire and the warm house invite our thoughts;
Yet the sky, so fixed and gray, is still sleeping.