The Winter After Your Death by Sharon Olds

The long bands of mellow light across the snow narrow slowly. The sun closes her gold fan and nothing is left but black and white– the quick steam of my breath, the dead accurate shapes of the weeds, still, as if pressed in an album. Deep in my body my green heart turns, and thinks of you. Deep in the pond, under the thick trap door of ice, the water moves, the carp hangs like a sun, its scarlet heart visible in its side.

— The Dead and the Living by Sharon Olds (Knopf poetry series -- 13.) (Page 24)