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Snow Canticle
by Ed Bennett

What better time to love you
than the softness of springtide,
the green stick season
with the trill of avian choirs
returned to Nature’s ken?
Or summer, the delight
of the sun’s ecliptic dance
across a breadth of sky
to stretch the hours of
a lover’s dalliance?
It is winter that challenges
with the scantiness of day
ceding to the hoar frost’s chill,
the loss of touch from hands
and hearts into the season’s sleep.
But I love you more
in this faded light,
desire your close held form
against me as one who strikes
the spark of welcome flame.
It may be bleak to those outside us,
a shiver for their pale amours,
yet this stroke of hands and heat will
drive our light past boughs
besotted with winter’s loss

to the border of love without season.


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