Winter Walk in the Woods

by Fran Berkman

Damp snow muted the whispering trees
on our winter walk in the woods.
Couldn't feel your hand no matter how hard I squeezed,
but your trail prints let me know where you stood.
 
Alone and freezing on a path bleached white.
A needle prick when the water breached our boots.
We reached our solemn space in a circle of firs
as the night pulled the blanket from atop the stars.
 
When you laid your icy blue lips on my humming head
and drew your arms around me like a blanket,
I gratefully faded to fog.