Winter's Unspoken Words

The night's starless seduction blows with ice

as the nests are edged with glassy ice picks.

The maple trees are seized by winter's office

against an ashen setting that entices

a view through crystal windows I notice.

* * *

A glimpse of a bundled unshaven man

made me stand still as he turned the corner.

Snowdrifts build waves like a frozen ocean

and a reminder of when love began

as his gait on iced pavement rubbed his jeans.

* * *

I stood at the window waiting for light

and, yes, wondered whether he would return.

Thoughts mingled against all things life has taught

about feelings of love and all that weight

and what I had before that was for naught.

* * *

I hear shovels on the pavement next door

and I think it must be him outside still.

I hear a knock and much to my horror

as I make my way across my cold floor

and turn the chilled knob to see my neighbor.

* * *

"Yes?" I said with the door slightly ajar

with a smile as our eyes met in the freeze.

He stood there grinning in black denim gear

wanting to shovel my driveway I swear

and he's dressed up so warm like some beggar.

* * *

I shut the door and the furnace kicked on

and I watched and listened to the scraping.

Back and forth he moved in the drifts upon

the cement that's worn down like scuffed teflon

and each move he made turned to seduction.

* * *

I watched him disappear on the last throw

of iced layers across the flirting lawn.

I'm a writer and I did take a vow

to not find that light that is until now

in his eyes through the glass of my window.

* * *

He came back the next day full of shimmer

from the sun on the white icy hard ground.

Faucet-like drips fall from the roof gutter

that made small splashes on his left shoulder

as I watched while he spoke in his manner.

* * *

I saw the painted oceans in his eyes

with the shades of blue changing in the light.

He smiled when I spoke and I felt my nerves

as I'll say, "yes," if he again arrives

on day three when my heart's in his clutches.

* * *

All at once, I am the mouse and the worm

pursued for that touch on top of his hand.

I am a writer and I will confirm

I need all my time no matter the charm

and he still smiles as I feel my alarm.

* * *

I invited him inside and he stood

by the entrance near the kitchen table.

I grabbed some cups as he yanks down his hood

and pulls up a chair painted in oxblood

that blended his soft smile and mellow mood.

* * *

Nerves ascend and banter ensues as I drop

my train of thought that is caught by that smile.

The pit of my gut feels what I must stop

because I have no time for the last scoop

of my life or that one single teardrop.

* * *

Weeks go by fast and the warm days come back

with the sounds of birds and the glimpse of green.

I sit still watching him stand by his truck

"I see your soul," and I'm in total shock

He's rainbow real and I'm a subtle wreck.

* * *

It's on the burner that he is the one

as the flowers came after that dinner.

The one with the seafood and perfect wine

and the long breathless kiss divorced alone

forcing thoughts that were good and insane.

* * *

The words I should be writing disappeared

like my favorite seasons that flew by.

The heart's a tricky friend when feeling loved

by deep blue eyes with logistics all planned

for surprise trips of my time they imposed.

* * *

Ten years go by and his job makes him move

to the east coast with no visits from me.

With no invitation yet he holds love

that comes here often and one time he drove

in the summer which a stare could approve.

* * *

Ten more years have crossed my lovelorn journey

and he's still back east growing older too.

My heart's back by my side and not lonely

as I write day and night even when it's grey

skies and memories make my mind obey.

© Cathy Coombs (2022)

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