Christmas with Emily
It is etched on windows
that I will arrive at the meaning
of Winter – scrawled with pencil
on antique chocolate wrappers.
In feeble long hand bliss
we trace fine lines – cutting a dash
through New England snow –
the long & the short of it
keeping us at arm’s length.
Codes in invisible ink hum
in surround sound – outside
amongst pear trees & sky
the view from your room
remains in stone – singing louder
than ears ringing at midnight.
©️ Orion Foote
Visions of Orion Poetry 