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Winter

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As winter dusk
pulls the solstice close,
and frost lays down
its silver hush,
the deep blue of the season
chills the senses,
and folds itself into the silence
where words
leave no impression,
with hardly an echo

in the cold.
You hold your breath -
the weight of a winter’s night -
heavy with waiting,
and you have the sensation,
something extraordinary is about to happen.

It is as if there is a gap in your memory
where a distant phrase once sat,
an ancient word
that has lived there for long lengths of time,
but has now shifted
just out of sight,
but the pattern of it
agitates the air
as if drawing breath,
and soon to be spoken,
and you have the sensation
something extraordinary is about to happen.

And the deepest midnight
harbours such promise,
filled with silent echoes
of words not yet spoken,
sounds not yet made,
fingers not yet clinging,
eyes not yet seeing,
love not yet broken open,
and you have the sensation
something extraordinary
is about to happen,
tonight.