Your words like a rent collector’s bond
command their due, but the bank of smiles
you heisted to pilfer my heart was full
of fool’s gold – no matter, I’ve withdrawn
from there and stowed my losses elsewhere.
Winter is aground and a chill has glazed
our stained window – the lead between
has tightened its hold and the pane is dulled.
Candles sputter and snuff when drafts
chase vespers down the whispering nave.
The only nuptials hanging in the dim light
are red berries between the thorns and needles,
the dead orchard is punctuated by green carols
and footfalls crunching the frozen frost –
A savior is born again but not for us.
That coin was spent long ago when stars
first led men across the sea, when Orion
first tightened its belt on a belly-full of night
and silver changed hands, when vows were spoken
and veils dropped on all that vows and veils portend.