I love it when the dark bottle of night spills out, and the Moon writes in chalk about us.

That icy glass reduces your beauty - dims your fire - let me be your mirror...

Freshly cut Christmas trees smelling of stars and snow and pine resin - inhale deeply and fill your soul with wintry night.

I pray this winter be gentle and kind - a season of rest from the wheel of the mind.

I hear the sounds of melting snow outside my window every night and with the first faint scent of spring, I remember life exists

I make no apology about stirring the depths - every human longs to swim under water and see what lurks beneath

Dark furrow lines grid the snow, punctuated by orange abacus beads of pumpkins - now the crows own the field.