Winter Now

The trees

on the slanted white

have winter fingers

playing an invisible piano

of collective harmonies

curled 

beneath a cloak

of vibrant stillness.

The trees

on the slanted white

have winter arms

conducting

an orchestra of delicate murmurs

veiled

by the immobility 

of pure bliss.

The trees

on the slanted white

bow

towards those who care

to know

what they have always known

since the start of the

performance:

This very moment

in its endless flow

of immaculate falling pearls

is a portrait of tranquil purity

by a master painter

commissioned 

by this very moment's

self-importance.

The Now of now

wanted to introduce itself

to Eternity,

carefully adorned

in filigree of white and unvoiced music

for fear that the passers-by

would pass it by.

Like so many other Now's

this Now is elegantly

yearning 

for immortality.

(from The Bliss Delusion Tango)