Untitled - January 16, 2002

The crunch of boots against fresh snow
is loud against the silence
of this winter evening.

Small puffs of air
breathed into the cold frost
hang for just a moment
against the dark sky.

Even as the skin is chilled,
the soul is warmed
by the comforting knowledge
that this walk on a winters eve
is shared
and not alone.

The ever present knowledge
of dwindling time 
serves as the partition
that both pushes
and pulls
everything apart
and
together again.