I stood under a naked cherry tree
To watch the branches wire the sky.
Snowflakes landed on my eyelashes
Then slid into my eyes.
Clouds stepped apart.
Two crows passed by.
And the timeless stage above our heads
Shone with the sunlight.
“You have a secret,” whispered the wind.
The wirey branches of the cherry creaked.
I looked at the icy carpet under my feet.
My toes were purple; and the soil, perfectly bleached.
The wind rolled itself into a demanding gust.
The garden remained frozen but unfused.
“Tell me,” said the wind, stroking my cheek.
I smiled at the illusion that my frosted breath belonged to the world
—not my mind.