The Four Seasons

Snow swirls around the hands,
the feet. Eyes open, hearts
clench their fists.
The body is a volcano.

The sun blinks
its yellow eye. Wind blows
the ice to the shore.
Today the road may open.

Now I discover your lips
again. Who can say
where night ends, where
stars close their bright page.

We have bowls of soup
smelling of thyme and rose.
Take me by the hand.
The lake is rising again.