Alchemy

The weeksextend like decades: leaves fall& sky shrinks to blanket grey. A last pink roseuninhibited holds herlovely head, as if to say, ‘Winter is forgotten.’ ‘Winter’,the word sends icicle down my spine,as the sharp crack of ice,opens pond. These aresea days: incubatingsalty bath of creation. Fragile, nakedforms, voiceless until springgathers warmth & webecome, pure gold.