At the river she found a memory,
and beneath the snow uncovered the cloud she left.
His hand had grayed, his lips cracked ice and withered blue.
He looked as if he had fallen from the rain,
or a place with little color.
She lifted him from that white tomb
and laid him in the boat, half sunken by the cold waterside.
With a push she sent him out to dream, and imagined the man
with the morning in his eyes.