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 the world is dusted in magic
   our magic
lightly frosted on pine
      needles and naked branches
heated breath on
   icicle covered windows
Our very own winter wonderland

I drove in darkness
  illuminated
by the February moon
   reaching out her long silvery fingers 
    to dust the road with sparkling flakes

Inner thoughts pulsating heavy
  deep questions and answers yet to come
In that silence of that drive
  the future lay stretched out into forever
All ours 
  so pure in the distance
  as we approached
  and passed 
   became marred and charred by our words and our actions

We continue on

In the rearview
I see 
   sprouts of green
pushing through
  where our footsteps had been

Magic
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