Below Zero

by Michael Macklin

Here in the deep
of winter
so frigid that the starlight
sleepers dream
of woolen blankets
wrapping around
their individual hearts
in an attempt
to keep the smallest
ember alive in the furnace
of their bodies.

Only the silence
goes deeper,
fills with a low hum
of hope sprouting
in visions,
calla lilies and crocuses
reaching from under the snow
toward a thread of sunlight.

Surrounded by the millions
buried in sleep
I am warmed by the tiny fires
they share without knowing.