Monday, March 12, 2007
Come sit by the fire.
Spring weeps from the crystals of snow. Feel it blowing?
Come sit by the fire and push winter from the stones.
Look in on us when the years hammer flesh from bone. Pieces of us are here. Our fingers settled every stone.
These shapes are the frozen breath of our dreams. They remain, even when our souls long lay splintered by the trees.
(Ruins in the forest of Marsh Creek State Park, Chester County, Downingtown, Pennsylvania. This house stands on a hillside overlooking Brandywine Creek. The ruins of a large stone barn are nearby.)