POEM: In February, Wearing Sloppy Snowshoes

In February, wearing sloppy snowshoes, you trundled over,
dragging all the ice & snow you could with you the entire way,
Asked my forgiveness, & to hand me back the coffee that you borrowed
That last time we circled each other before we went on desperate paths
in the heat of July, we danced to cicada.
& now, & here - you promise me the heat of nuclear fusion,
wishing to make more energy out of colliding words
Which I mention to you is how sunlight is made.
Blood shot red light carves out a soft occupation of the hills,
As it casts its doubtful shadows.