December's wintery breath is already clouding the pond, frosting the pane, obscuring summer's memory...

It was a black and white day of frost, which crawled along the dark trees and outlined twig and branch. The air was misty, and distant objects assumed a mysterious importance. Slight sounds, too, suggested infinite activities to the mind.

("A Tribute Of Souls")

You are my winter suddenness—a glass of red wine spilt across a white tablecloth

...I hear the sounds of melting snow outside my window every night and with the first faint scent of spring, I remember life exists...

...dark embers smolder inside me - one touch and they flare - who would have thought memory combustible, or near you bright sparks appear?...

...when I was a kid, Toronto streets were deserted and quiet on Sundays, except for the sound of church bells I stood on the sidewalk one December listening to the Christmas bells - I've never forgotten that moment...