This is Waiting

Breath becomes ice fog,

and I count empty nests

in the speckled alders

to stay warm,

rub my fingers like tinder

and listen for the bird song

to slice the frozen air

and fall in chimes.

I fall in love

with frost-flaked catkins

by the footbridge

and stamp my toes,

wondering when the streak

of pink will kiss the glass

of the pond

and break it,

watch

till the ridge catches fire

and the light descends

like oil on Aaron’s beard,

pooling in my hands.