Winter Nest

Thoughts of him

are a nest I can build in secret. 

Twigs and string and downy feathers plucked from a winter coat.

High, high up. High-altitude hopes leave you little extra breath.

Still: enough to laugh.

I only allow myself night visits.

I climb up, up, up close to the disinterested stars that won't betray me.

Have to be careful. He could find it, easily. Child's play to him, such sleuthing. 

Thoughts of him

are a nest I can sleep in at night.

Curled up tight, I'll fold my wings around the glow of a smile

that is a new source of warmth in this frozen wonderland.

The branches are bare except for this nest.

(Deciduous: it's all they sell around here.)

If I can just ride out the winter, come spring the buds and blooms will camouflage me

as, maybe, I bloom along with them.