Fading Into Dawn by Steve Klepetar

Here a silent space, snow on the mountain  

where boulders grow beyond streams 

cut from glacial ice. Nobody speaks. 

Wind trembles and far away 

a storm blossoms beneath clouds.

A woman wakes up humming,

eyes rimmed with sleep.

All night she has ridden a dream.

Her face is a cloud wrapped around a cliff,

or darkness fading into dawn.

There are candles, and shadows on the snow.

A voice cries in the pines.

All morning I have felt the breath 

of winter as it curls around my head. 

There are wolves hidden in the thickets here. 

You feel their breath, the purple shadows of their fur. 

Steve Klepetar lives in the Berkshires in Massachusetts. His work has received several nominations for Best of the Net and the Pushcart Prize. Klepetar is the author of fourteen poetry collections, the most recent of which are A Landscape in Hell (Flutter Press) and Why Glass Shatters (One Sentence Chaps).