Morning Poem by D A Phinney

skipping snowdrops on winterpanes of glass
divided iceways in my window
and through it all the orchards of my love I saw
and you in whiteness standing there

the streaking sun was fanned in morning's pleasure on your face
while crystal feathers lingered in your shadow
I watched your fingers warm and naked flicking ice-tines down
from weighted diamond limbs until they were released
I smiled and thought of all that fall in sorrow