other than white

in the ginger
of morning
i catch snow on my tongue
taste the stillness
of light at the edge of a wood

as winter takes breath
to cradle life in a blanket held white
held white and wide
in the course of my sight

it, natures communion
takes precedent over warm and constant
and that which i receive
lips can hardly reveal

not in word
not in tongue
spoken or scribed, nor

in earthly creation
other than white

bkmackenzie
2016 (copyrighted)

photo by Karen Callan