February

It is already February, As the snow drifts and lattices The cheek, as frost corners The plane turns of surfaces. The winter must reach its trough, Before spring comes to urge The pulse of bud and trial, before The arc of expiration completes. It may be peace, I think, this Quiet night with the storm outside, This silent looking into another face, Drawn in tender lines of tiredness. The winter must reach its end, If the routes between our minds Intend, or if the way to love disappoints Utterly, and the leaves, like tears, begin bright. By Ng Shing Yi QLRS Vol. 2 No. 3 Apr 2003