"then there are"

by Stephen A. Rozwenc

then there are
those long frigid winter nights
when the shivering mind desperately resorts to cold calculation
for warmth

perception becomes beatified delusion
and crucial explanation
of why
riparian New England snowscapes
swath moonlit snow’s creamy vellum
with iridescent comforters of thermal profusion

movement becomes meditation
a restless Chi of wind moans hotter eroticism
up through the back pasture
sailing disbelief like a ghost schooner
its barely audible foredeck jib a filigree powdery swirl

more resolute abstinence tacks across a hillside meadow
pausing only
to marvel at the rusted hay baler
and its half emerging halo of snow
inviting reckless deer to feed
on heavenly light
instead of ragged strips of hemlock bark

a pearly necklace of enterprising stonewall
belies the edgy hill’s diffident proposal
of fire clamoring inside ice
and a runway back to blissful heat
and the blessed Pleiades within our DNA