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.