He is There

 
The wind has stopped blowing through her garden.
No birds can be heard or seen.
The anemic sun is lost behind blue clouds.
                                                  She is naked, crying softly;
scared. She feels his breath move her hair, and him
all around her, mimicking her fetal position.
His lips touch her neck as she turns in him; feeling
his lips with hers and fingertips.
She is relieved and cries again:
                                                        better tears.
When she wakes there is snow without tracks.