Reaching across the trees

When she sings,
it is sometimes a pale blue song
with a lilt of the south
from her youth revisited
in the northern treetops,
all tied up in an emotion
something like the fading ripple
of a pond, happy to be moved,
content to be still again.
Knowing snow is coming
and facing a warm sun
just before it slips away,
she reaches for him
with no worry, no hurry,
and a heart full.


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