A Heart Adrift

I carry my Heart in a black wool coat,

through the white whirling of Winter

    As it beats warmth,

    Thawing frozen souls

        Trudging trenches through the snow,    

          Teeth speaking with chattering,

        Clenching palms with frigid fingers.

    . . . and so this Heart thaws with thumps.

Like that spindly black Branch, naked and lonely,

        Who writes weakly on the winds

    the story of his glory

As it leaves him every Fall.

    These days, he sways

        Clothed and glowing

            As Winter weaves him a wool of snow.

    . . . and so this Heart wishes warmth.

Singing, like that Icicle, passionate and longing,

    Chasing after his own dropped tears

        Prayers falling

            Building the other

        She rises up to kiss him,

    As he exclaims, “O Ice of my ice!”

    . . . and so this Heart prays and hopes.

Lend

Those hands

In your lap

    to the reaching and crying

        preaching and prying

            of this Heart.

For bears and squirrels have fur to warm them in frosted days,

    Where flakes tickle and tease almost numb cheeks

       Where a lake’s skirt freezes into a flying fringe along the shore

    Where a stream slows and trickles   t e d i o u s l y  along  the  trail . . .

. . . as the cold wind breathes.

So I am adrift

With this Heart

molded to be held not in

    The red-brown whiskers of my beard

      nor tattered sweaters with fraying sleeves

        nor dark recesses of black wool coats

          nor the fragile flesh of my chest,

But it was born to crackle

      warm and loved

In the hearth of your hands.

A friend once told me this poem is very 'me.'  I agree.