III.

Though winter’s charm once raised affections whole (Our knot twice tied by younger words and colored page Our field twice tilled, grown green by verdant souls) This winter hurts; a loose, frayed mud it raged As fruitful trees go skinny, scared By Jan’ry’s new usurping, frosted hand Time’s cycle cruelly chose the field we share Cold clockwork piled, obscured a lovely land In Florence lives the last remembered sun It cycled dark, then seemed a dream, our love. “ ‘twas bright, ‘twas true,” we prayed that east-upon Yet no return; no symp’thy from above But Megan, don’t think our bright dreams as lost You stay my heart in Lux et Veritas