Stephen Fuller *** Poetry, Essays

Frosted Breath

The day Halloween dressed up as White Christmas
On a walk to seek beauty where night mystifies
Love laughing at cold closed flowers, early snow
A trick as much a treat given the bell nature rings.

There, I found it, my frosted breath.

Alone, the dark road underneath, neither love nor
Hate, like the stars, needed counting, I wandered
Into my myths, woven by Minerva, this celestial field,
She, her white eyes like marbles, blind to my songs.

There, I found it, my frosted breath.

As there in my tiny bit of space in this dark interval
From stars that needn’t be counted, discover a love,
All that was meant to be, become and take my flight
The day Halloween dressed up as White Christmas.

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