by Stephen Leake
Across the dark, a robin learns the Winter.
A candle dissolves; frank and sensuous
Against the extending light.
The streets remain illegible with snow.
I travel through you; uncurling
Where weather decorates the night
And naves of Christmas pines
Grasp human shadows.
Alone I go, echoing carols
In powdered places. Echoes that are glorified.
Until I find you on the bench
Pressed with our pasts.
A child again. Tricked and traced by
Memory’s gift. Lasting. Imprinted.
A proof of the year’s new world.
I think I’ll have to wait a while for the snow to clear from this bench.