No space,
Nor time,
No distance,
No night, nor day,
Nowhere,
Only the bobcat who strays
Across the high slanted
Bridge
Of rock, buried in snow,
Overlooking the deep fog lake
Below.
No dance
In the white air,
Lingering, a single chime
Of the Tibetan bell.
Why
Not take
Time
To stay
A while,
Footsteps of grace,
Glimmering eyes
That do not smile.
The moon calling from far across the haunted ridge,
Enchanted
Spell,
Cast in the window,
Through the wise
Year of fire-glow,
Of softly growing snow.
© Sharon St Joan, 2021