What happened to me this year? -- Once I smelled an orange just peeled off
In the slightly frozen air. I saw a butterfly struggling
Against the assault of wind, and compared myself with it. I watched
How the hardened sky was shattered and was falling -- through silent
And black void -- in tiny splinters of white. But when the sky was soft,
I had mornings when I gazed upon a walking aged couple --
Their white did not harden yet -- his hand in hers. The woman looked not old,
Though she had a body of a snowflake melting in sunlight.
The sun was inside her -- the orange she peeled off at breakfast. She
Was emitting light -- a queen -- her hand in his every morning --
A witch in control of her tempest -- snow and wind. This year I lived
Lonely -- thinking how I will be telling you of these moments.