I saw

your exhausted field of snow

frozen cornrows and regular furrow

laying floundered beneath light ice

silent waiting for daystars rebirth

our boots crushing recalcitant husks

kinetic energy touching evaporate

with slim hands worn with wring

still they are the same, I thought

one slumbering, as another takes flight

these wooden birds with their lost aerial,

Tyrian purple tips, grazing nitrate skies

four pyrrole filament tricking as

the cold enters me, a brusque lover

those years in the agave desert gone

I am back in this field, watching, still

as I was at ten, burnt eyes, how time folds

and elopes

is the most marvelous mystery

revealed tantalizingly late

as the prepossessing dinner guest

proffers dark sweet cherries

when the taste of brandy turns cloying

and we all forget the arching fire

for the spread of pinion wings yonder.