Inverno

The bleak solstice Night begs
just one more wish, from the window of
my room, brushed in iridescent frost and snow's resist,
and Winter's rare and lovely kiss-
the begging Earth, her midnight's cry, sleep
soundly into Morning's desperate light,
when life creeps from what the Moon hid away,
in spite of Day, and
the battle of season made into childlike secret play:
the dancing flakes
of frozen rain will fall on linen colored beds
of angelic, perfect strain- everything that is white,
is pure,
untouched by human and vile Summer's extent endure,
thus make us what we are when hope is satisfied
in a surrendered, brilliant Winter's end.