Winter-shrouded wooded ground ― bitterly cold ― plodding snowed over paths.   Whirling snow kisses. Helping me live.   Cutting in ― setting traces in time ― hearing a frozen to death stone rapture.   Sensing emotions colden.   Future now stands here in the trace-meeting ― knowing the inner in your voice ― in … Continue reading AS A FROST MOTH IN NOON-DAY THAW