I imagine creek
maybe brook even 
stream but not 
spring for spring
comes after thaw
and me I
am still frozen 
still cold and 
dark and whatever 
water that there
is is white 

It’s the pause 
that paws me
the hiccup and 
its hesitation that 
startles the start
no yield no 
warning of this 
bumpity bump causing 
me to slow 
looking back I
see none either 
whatever it was 
must’ve limped away 
into the forest 
to lick wounds 
to heal or
maybe to die 
on I go
my merry way 
wishing my best 
to the interruption 
my bumpity bump

And each inch
turns into foot
and each minute 
into an hour 
so does day
ever so slowly 
creep up over 
and beyond like 
little fingers slowly 
reaching for cookies 
and the light 
ahead of darkness 
or maybe behind 
edges out night 
like some anxious 
onlooker vying for 
a better seat 

Awakened by him
not him but 
another him so 
many too many 
hims singing hymns 
of lament and 
longing and loneliness 
that I wonder 
with so many 
hearts aching and 
breaking and thirsting 
will there ever 
be enough love 
to quell these
fires that rage 
deep in lonelyland 

A finger found 
its way there
sight unseen sigh
and sign heard
little green lights 
signaling good go
ahead yes please 
and this finger 
and those ribs 
played a melody 
only the ears 
of lovers hear
humming right along