Valentine's Day 

( for KFL; 2/14/27--1/23/2001)  

No one goes there now. 
For days the smooth snow,
unbroken to the treeline,
lifted there by wind
along the ridge, settles
at last among the stones. 
At night, stars, high,
hiss an inaudible static,
dance for the dead. 

In the morning,
if there is sun,
what little sun there is
washes down between the stones,
lights but does not warm. 
Cold reigns,
and I stand in the drift,
nearly orphaned.

Photo Credit: Catherine Sheane