Venus and Jupiter in the Dooryard

In the dooryard
at dusk, a distant
waving friend,
a lover,
kin,
a face pressed to the pane
of a frosty February
glass.
a kitchen and supper dishes
behind,
the caress of smells
like flannel...

Venus climbing the next door trellis
and Jupiter just rungs below.
some nights the moon between,
or close-by,
a neighbor, playmate,
trusted friend, or quiet lover.

Before,
Eternity dances in the dooryard,
weeks before Spring's dawn,
and the wood smoke
fills the frigid air
with rekindled
memories as close as the starlight
reflected on the snow.