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 our two parts:
Let me become the most beautiful spring-freed leaf you’ve seen.