Resilience

Ivory thistles and bristles
thrive among the January alabaster,
it is a throb of bleached purity
against the spreading
hibernation marshmallows,
soft and lingering is promise
under a cotton hewed raiment.

And breath still has
the subtle residue of dreams
as a cream poured over the soul,
we blend the vanilla dawns
with the confections of January
in their icing caresses to the world.

Pallid foretastes of frigidity
are the ashen lace of chill,
still the heart pours its milk
across that tundra textures
while we smile in the paleness
for white hot blooms inside
have a fertile vernal blood
that no December kiss
can permanently still.