Pale is the Heart

the weight of winter
hangs low and rough
it pulls brutally against the darkest clouds
and yet the flame burns bright

the falling snowflakes
touch everything in quiet stillness
enfolding noise 
the despair wrapped in beauty and silence 

snow melts
gathering its tears into
a cloudy puddle
I look up and I no longer see the stars

(2011 was a very quiet year for my writing, I am hoping to re-charge and re-focus creatively)