The earth is powdered snow.
The sun rises in myriad hues.
Nightingales refuge in my closet
to mourn December’s last refrain.
Contrails light the wings of Jays
that flit beneath the lit doorway
settle softly into January’s chill
Shelter in a pale winter bed
“One day we will learn to give and receive love like an open window and it will feel like summer everyday”
Translation by Bernd @ Neues Vom Hutschi