Rain in Winter

Where is that color not yet seen
That we would know as clear as red sky
And the green of earth’s home?
Behind frosted glass or upon the lost chord,
I wait upon the open air to see and know it’s name.

I watch the angel’s fingers touch the unfeeling hand.
In walks the man with the colors of a winter afternoon
Unfolding lives like a deck of loose cards,
He asks about the angel’s hands, the color’s name
And the fire’s path.

I would try until my last days
To describe to you the color unseen, unnamed
We would think unknown
But for its breath upon our shoulders.
Like a trick of the memory it hides between our own thoughts
As we walk about touching paths.

In the time you took to capture the very future’s breath
I rolled your soft question in the unstopped rain
 Until the night spoke it’s reply.
We listened to its wet whisper upon the glass
And let the rain melt itself back to earth.

Between the heart and stomach forms the lightning in the sky.
I feel their fear, but forced to laugh like the wizard unbound,
I strike again and again
Rage and laughter and power
With each thunderous cry lets loose every hidden dream
Until rains with mercy.