Breathe
into thin air and draw a circle
around the
good and the bad
colours that
mingle
into flakes
of white snow
I heard of
fairy tales in a frozen jungle
where trees
talk
to each
other about birds
They ascend
and disappear
carry feeble birds with frozen wings
when it is
too cold to sleep and sing
One tree
fell into the middle
another lifted
its roots
to go and
find a black carpet
underneath
which white snow
could be
hidden from migrating birds
He never
came back and
the tree in
the middle
opened its
trunk and closed it
when storms grew heavy
when storms grew heavy
