When my weeping heart shall cease and pain shall now find rest, letting go of counted tears for sleep upon your breast, soft, soft skin and curling hair, the pillow for my rest, and waiting still with tender ear, to listen to our guest.
Heartbeats form a serenade, your breathing is a song, and where rise the pains of yesteryear your song shall guide me home.
Hold me close now as my dreams encircle me for peaceful sleep. For in my waiting I shall see, what dreams have been awaiting me. Your scent will lead me on.
From dust that dashed our yesterday, to the dew of what we still call tomorrow, it is your weather which is sweet to me, even as I hope these words are sweet to thee.
Be still, we say to the little robin, perched upon the ropes of dreams. Her song is the secret, that calls to the fox, and asks him whither goest Sister Winter.
Gossip now the merry-maid, sings her song into the stillness, carmine lips that set the waves to marching. Ere she goes, leaving juniper in her footsteps, little prayers of mint and madness rise up also in her waking.
A’fore she rises, Sister Winter. Heavy no more with autumn’s cloak, she shakes the dust with a triumphant finality. She rises to cool the sun with a welcome kiss, his blush makes him grow distant, such a shy suitor, what manners for a caller.
With your hand in mine we watch as the overture rises, what bold and wint’ry guests have come to play in this earth, in this cold and hallowed space. Delightful neighbors waking from their slumber, ready to entertain her, to summon from her lips that wondrous smile.
I’ll cherish your kiss in the presence of this merry band, the creatures of the night, the keepers of crystalline stillness. The owl and the wolf shall be our shepherds in the passing, and the fox our clever guide across cool waters.
The stars will whisper guidance as we trembling cross the drifted wonder so carefully our own. Perhaps, trembling with anticipation, we shall spy a leaf whose own anticipation is mirrored in our own.
We have left only impressions, only footsteps, all too readily filled in with erasures of our passing. Give me your lips in the still of night, and we shall have a dawn. Walk beside me, and in the rising night, wait with me. See she walks alone, a glistening diamond, singing to the moon.
In the eve of her passing, let us keep watch as she fades, and await with tearful joy, the coming of Daughter Spring.