It is as if white clouds have come to earth.
The sky is falling. Do you mind, my friend?
Moon sheets echo a shining out of time.
Tree limbs cripple the cadence of snow's song.
Eyes tell me that you pity the cold glass.
You write a letter to me in its frost.
Your words weave me a coat of chimney smoke.
That shadow is the warmth I hold  most dear.
Previously published: Voices Israel