Snow unmelted in the shadows of trees
Like beds unmade, unslept, are these.
In the still shade of Winter’s late afternoon
It was early morning: a wedding, a moon,
A birth, a death, the newness of age
And ancients, fresh, green country blades.
A youth and young maiden in secret wed;
Their union forbidden, guilt-ridden, they fled.
Ever-delicate Springtime has come into sight;
Left behind is the snow that belonged to the night.
Written 3-22-08
German countryside near Munich