An Echo in Eternity
Icicles along rigid walls
wind as subtle hints.
In yesterday's snowfalls
stories in the prints
speak of the winds wail
and from under what we see
a quietly spoken tale,
an echo in eternity.
An echo in our bones
in all that was and will be here
in last summer's pine cones
in the fruits of next year -
winter day, overcast,
stories told at dawn,
whispers of a distant past
sky like the wing of a swan
all speak of the sacred
all bowed to their knees
as voices from the unborn and the dead
come from visions in the freeze.
© Andy Conley, 2014












