Sunday Whirl 
Memory of Winter’s Cold Breath
The morning breaks
Like a crystal goblet
Shattering to the floor
You are there
On the tip of dreams
The world of the mesa is tinted
A vivid pink by early morning light
Tiny sparkles glitter
Gently nick memory bubble
Drifts of snow from years past
Split past and present
The tide rises
Waves of memory
Wash over me
Crash to the shore
There is nothing to be fixed
Tinny sounds of church bells
In faraway distance
Prelude to coming of
Winter’s cold breath
Insidious down my jacket
Freezing limbs
Which never seem to wake
annellannell 