A Winter Dream

Could you ever press your brow to the cooling glass
frosted under winter’s breath
and redesign your landscapes?

Could you conjure back the bus-stop kisses
of a new day’s snap that christened your nose
in the chilly hours of your youth?

There was a time.

Try to remember those cold hands that once brushed
your reddened cheek with the expectancy of the years you had
stuffed into your coat pockets like candy.

Remember the winter’s caress that grips
the throats of winter wrens huddled
in the bends of their high branches beyond windows.

There was a time

when you braved the ice and made inroads
through snow-covered fields, your boot heels
crunching toward the higher hills of your ascension.

Now press your brow to the pane
and recall those moments lensing in your mind
like a winter’s dream as seen through the window

where now you find yourself standing,
trembling like a brittle limb above the surety of the fall.
Do you know who you are? Can you recall?