there's a strange serenity
to these bare trees,
i love these ghosts of november-
not like last week's leaves
that set the landscape afire
as summer's departure
left its mark...

threads of smoke
float through an open window.
tonight through black branches
stars will swim in random circles
and dreams will yield to the wind
in shadows pared clean of light

with the moon climbing
i'll look to your window,
your light a bonfire for my soul
in a night half-swollen
with the loneliness of the day
i'll hold the image of your face in my heart
afraid of yesterday
and uncertain about tomorrow

as the moon pales
against the window
and clouds lap across the sky
i'll remember that someone once told me,
never use these words in a poem:
love. ghost. heart. moon. dream. stars. soul.

in the soft sleep
of a beautiful dream
a murmur of compassionate rain
melts the unforgiving snow

it is only the wind
that can't control itself,
unintentionally sweeping snow
from the window

the clearing turquoise sky
is as transparent as the day we parted
your soul was light as a feather
as sunset unfolded a banner of gold brocade

my dream is dreaming of another dream
where you are somewhere playing behind the wind
i know that gods and humans take different paths
but they lead to the same destination

where dreams cry sacred tears