Mulling Over First Love

Dark short inside days served chilled to the bone

--air heavy with cinnamon and citrus 

and longing. Running from chapel trailing midwinter carols 

--hacked on smoky, white, breath

under a dropped pearl necklace of stars

--that first, rough, green, mistletoe kiss

Much later on a colder day as sleet fell like confetti

--laying a cold fleece over everything 

I thought I knew. The broken branches clutched decay

—but still managed to wave on high

as I walked away. Instead of blood and bandages

— the snow-covered Fire Thorn tree 

made me think of berries and ice-cream

--and this is how I have survived.