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Melancholy Bloom of Day

Amy Nocton

Today
in the melancholy
mid-winter bloom
of day
an amber slit
of a serpent’s eye
sat, unblinking,
on the ridge.

Some nearby trees
stood like bundled
umbrellas,
impatient.

I am the girl
who wore blue
on her wedding day
one late December night
with snow lightly
veiling the earth.

White now drapes
sensuous hills curves,
now like a woman’s body
now like a violin.
White colors
everything.

You hold tight,
knowing there is love,
still
beneath it all,
feel adoration
for the one who chose
you. Quiet.

Do you,
fortunate love,
remember
the time
you opened
my eyes,
after a night
of thirty-five
dreams?

How I wish
I had a house
for those doors
so we could both
disappear
in its warmth!

It is snowing,
again,
and the air is draped
in a fine, gauzy silk.

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