I can't stop the pen from dancing when it recognizes the tune of my heart.

The sun kisses my cheeks and the moon whispers to me the philosophies of the stars, the inquiries of mockingbirds, and the bedtime stories of the katydids...

Monday, January 11, 2010

Alabaster Morning

The mischievous pixies of winter danced cleverly in and about the trees,
stopping to rest lightly atop the leaves,
landing upon the soil,
daring to cast their spell of this alabaster magic onto everything they
touched...
their laughter captured, by the winds,
drifted teasingly through the chimes outside my window...
I knew they had been dancing,
for I heard the music in my dreams.
Waking to the draft
flowing silently through my room,
I tucked myself beneath the covers, listening for the morning tune...
it didn't come...
Throwing back the covers I crawled through the maze of pillows atop my bed,
toward the window I wandered, hair falling loosely about my head;
curiosity killed the cat they say, but without the pursuit of inquisition,
wherein lies new discovered disposition!
Taking up the window coverings, a vision of ivory iridescence settles
before my eyes.
The magic still encircling the window, still dashing about the skies
and resting confidently on everything below.
I place my hand against the glass.
Cold and frosted...
smiling, I hurry to dress and to know the taste of winter,
this day so long desired...
The coffee brews...
Layers piling on to keep me from the cold, hair pulled back,
fastened at the nape of my neck...
mustn't forget the boots!
...and a scarf...and gloves...and a coat...and the coffee!
The door handle is frightfully cold.
The frostbitten soil, shivering helplessly beneath my feet,
chattering each time I take a step,
crying for the sun to melt away this spell;
I can't help but smile.
I dote upon this frozen world, I revel in it's bleakness,
this canvas knows no color and it is mine to paint with the strokes I see
fit.
My breath, like a cloud of whimsy, swirls about the air in fluid motion,
entangling circles of quiet comfort with the efforts rising from my
demitasse, as I sip carefully my heated potion.
The day is mine.
Winter has enveloped the earth;
the season is alive at last.
A kiss!
Another!
Falling like tears they stumble upon my cheek,
tiny jewels of snow, grazing my lashes, and taunting my lips,
sending me into the afternoon with the kisses of winter.

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