What I want most of all
Is for the crystallized tree tops
To clumsily drop mounds of snow
On our flushed noses and ears.
For the white sky to release
Miniature angels as a liaison
Between Heaven and Earth.
Each a labyrinth of unparalleled form,
Glistening softly and delicately
With each twist and turn of design
While sugaring sleepy eyelashes
And finding sudden solace
On outstretched popsicle tongues.
To stroll glove in glove past glaciated
Water and hidden pathways.
To be lost in an isolated, eerily quiet
Yet altogether familiar enormity
Of eternal wintertime warmth
That only we could feel.