Wilt

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 ?