Her face was like the first time I saw snow.
I was twelve years old, and it was
a cold January morning.
The young cedar trees surrounded me
They stood tall and still
in the face of a chilly breeze.
She had red cheeks, small nose
and beautifully contoured hazel eyes.
A few freckles under her eyes and a
mole just near her upper lip.
The lush ground below
inhaling the clean air around.
gazing towards the white.
Leave-less trees continue till my frozen eyes can see,
Standing tall in the nakedness they have come to be.
Her stance had purpose and her neck gave
that air of cool superiority.
The short, light blue summer skirt matching
Her tanned thighs.
the white thinly striped blouse barely
covering her small breasts.
The crispness of the North winds swirling from beneath,
My body trembling all the way up to my chattering teeth.
The ice-cold feeling rising to my now cherry red cheeks.
Her sandy hair swaying in the breeze
Voices in my head
Take a deep breath. Smile. Be me.
We looked at each other.
The beating of my heart
the restlessness of my feet
Her come here smile
Continuing my steps between the contours of this white path
The thawing of my freezing arteries’ wrath
The quietness of the moment
the stillness of my mind that I enthuse
the peace which
removes the darkness
I haven’t been freeing.
This frozen whiteness
rejuvenating me and making me whole.
I am the white lightness of being.