I have not forgotten beauty
gleaming in the rim of gathering dark
sounding in the crying of the snow geese
hiding in the cross cries of the storm

and rain races thru the air
in darts and stinging slaps and snaps
to light upon my eyelashes
to kiss my tippy nose

and I hear deep within the earth
the sighs of slumber, sleepy breath
and turning from this seeming death
when winter races strong

(and yet cannot
NOT be beautiful)

and so I walk the edges here
between the sea and sky and sand
and look for that pink glimmer
of that shell, that alabaster

moment, that holds
and does not break
at least not yet,
for I have not forgotten beauty.