The lion in winter,
red berries falling
into the icy crevices of dawn, the heart.
Few things compare to a brisk winter morning walk.
It is like being upside-down in the desert, the heart.
Some soft voice keeps pulling me in…
…deeper,
towards the soul of a snowflake, the heart.
When you are cold enough,
you actually feel warm.
It’s that upside-down thing again, the heart.
Only a fortunate few
ever tread the great sands towards Mecca.
There are as many footprints in the snow
as stars in the sky, the heart.
One foot at a time,
with a little grace,
I may eventually arrive home, the heart.
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