cobalt laced moon…

The storm began
before the Alaska Range
From inside of the whiteout,
outside of the peripheral
dreaming; we saw a giant owl
outside of the corner window
Descending through
the lightly falling snow,
a blurr of feathers
and stoicism
His wingspan
at least six feet
from wingtip to wingtip,
--The spanning angel
Descends brilliantly
Beneath the early November sky,
Backlit by halogen and moonlight,
the metallic aurora of the fresh snowfall,
All is illuminated,
this white on white substance,
Where memory erodes
quickly, envisioning
The pregnant and full moon
like seasons past,
and projects left undone,
forever postponed
beyond forgetting, or regretting
as the stone hand of time,
throws sparks from the anvil,
transformed into pearls
of opalescent ice,
a frozen waterfall,
whose veil cannot hide
such supernatural beauty,
haunting and suspended
the image of the beloved,
endures forever,
the day they first met,
a supernatural solution
to a supernatural riddle.
Love alone is worth it,
New memories draped
upon the white canvas,
there is nothing left to sketch,
but vistas of white forests,
glowing blue in the moonlight
as the moon is waning
I found a book
about ravens, black
and the flesh was the color of snow,
the clear green ice
was the temperature of my soul.
Pale blue and vacant ,
Cold purple horizon,
the cobalt laced moon…