Waiting to be
I drew pictures
as if there were a reason
falling from the star
breathing like a tree
a felted blanket
leaving below
fallen snow
lying late at night
one inch of window
twenty below
insisting on Ontario light
cobbling, holding
covered by snow

I drew more
the air soaking
the snowflakes baking
I drew then
a side without a saddle
awake, fresh like ice
to catch that falling rush
salted down
as each hoof touched
the white night gown
the air ascended
shinning up
beyond morning light
a melted design
a beautiful design
a beautiful mistake
waiting to be