love poem

A bounty of fog 
hangs over half-snow-covered fields
under a brown sun whose heat is felt 
under the skin 
and behind the eyes. 

Geese--fifty or so--are hidden
by the falsehood of seeing
among the corn stubble.

Coals burn deep under the earth;
hot blood is squeezed through the arteries of geese.
Several snowflakes melt each second.

No one talks about this heat, but it is there
hidden.  It makes fog and melts ice,
an occasional haystack explodes in a barn, 
but it is difficult to talk about.