The Poet's Corner..."

The Morning of the Season's First Snow

A hushed world lay beyond the pane, where the night had spun a silent fleece. 

Within, the air was warm and deep with peace. 

He woke to light made soft and strange, to the slow, soft drift of the world in change.

Beside him, solid, warm, and true, the man he loved, the man he knew.
A familiar scent of sleep and skin, a quiet world for them within. 

He watched the slow curve of his shoulder rise and fall with even breath, untouched by the pale world of death.

A hand reached out, a touch so light, brushing a curl in the filtered light.
The sleeper stirred, a heavy sigh, and met the gaze of the waking eye. 

A smile began, a slow, shared thing, the silent joy that morning brings.

No need for words, the feeling clear, dispelling every doubt and fear.
They turned to each other, a simple grace, a gentle meeting, face to face. 

In the warmth of the sheets, their bodies curled, the only two in all the world.

A deep embrace, a tender press, a silent, mutual, "Yes, oh yes." 

A kiss, so soft, a shared, slow breath, as outside, the first snow whispereth. 

Two souls entwined, a perfect sum, against the quiet, morning hum.

The white world waited, clean and new, but warmer still, the love of two.