A muted field a buried road
Footprints fade into pale hush
A single flame beneath the wool of night
Breath like incense rising
No trumpet calls for courage
Only quiet bones remember fire
Frost writes letters on a pane
Each curve a vow to keep warm
A roof hums with sleeping stars
The kettle counts small mercies
Winter holds its stern posture
Love refuses the posture back
Morning will read these ashes
Not as loss but as script
Light learned patience here
Snow learned to soften steel