The winter pasture,

cold and haunting,

clinging to life,

begins to say farewell,

it’s cold frost,

turning to tears.

Spring light is ringing the bell,

beating the drums, sounding the call.

The winter pasture clings to life,

showing off it’s piercing beauty,

it’s crystal sky, it’s frames of mist and frost.

the winter pasture is like that, blessed and doomed,

once it has known such divine beauty.

All the beautiful images of winter,

see against the sky,

through my misting lens,

you paint a picture,

winter pasture,

of the wounds,

that will never heal in me.

You can be the most beautiful thing,

and the darkest, all at once,

please forgive me the dream of spring,

the colors of the world are

coming to life,

their warm breath,

just over the mountain.

say goodbye, I hear those trumpets calling.

My heart is lifting up.