Green rivers tilt the heavens
stars loosen from their seams;
we lie in fur-lined silence
inside the house of dreams
Your breath becomes a lantern
mine answers with its glow;
the quiet names our futures
in languages of snow
A fox writes cursive footnotes
across the drifts of night;
we turn the page together
and everything is light
When colors fold to charcoal
the north resumes its calm—
we rise like careful singers
with wonder on our palm