Do you sit rigid on the wilting whisps of winter’s winds
Do you lie restless amongst the still of stars that dare not sway
Do you dance gingerly against the pressing tips of rush and risk
Have you tilted on the curling lips of secrets delivered in a desperate dark
Have you yet measured the near from the far
Will you share with me your strings and beads to stitch a field of dying weeds that reflect a sky of dwindling dreams
Say hidden face masked by half hints and a room dimly lit
say burdened soul
cry as the marrow of your dreadfully bound bones
?