by John Swain
Field became another sky
when snow fell
over the first winter night.
In the drift on the hill
we warmed beneath my coat
and sipped hibiscus tea
from a silver bowl I carry.
Trees floated from the ice
as she polished a rabbit jaw
and dropped prayer beads
to mark our path.
Fear darkened my heart
so I kneeled on my teeth
gone away to rejoicing her.