Eve

 

Instead

of what the year brings

what do I

bring

if I open

my eyes

and begin to see

again

the new

the nearly

the nuanced

the next?

On the margins

 

On the margins

of the river

in ditches

and the shadowy

places

on the north side

snow lingers

dirty lace

that clouds

mimic

in ragged strips

in the bluest

sky

Day moon

 

Is this

day moon

my mood

lurking

usually

well hidden

unremarked

and unremarkable

until

I see it

feel it

where it shouldn't be

where it always is

December Snow

December snow

welcomed

with wonder

stretching

to catch

in mittened hands

savored

on tip of the tongue

smiling lips

lifted

for the damp kiss

of feather

flakes

 

Winter watchers

 

As a girl

I learned

to name them

by their leaves

Now I play

a new game

looking for clues

in the snow

walnuts

and helicopter seeds

I know the

capillary anatomy

of the oak

and the twiggy broom

of basswood

The wine-red branches

of the crabtrees

The eyes of the aspen

are watching

warily

and high

in the clouds

a hawk cries

Flurry

 

Flakes

flutter

fragile

flurry

20 days til Solstice

 

I take comfort

in the approach

of the longest night

For

even though winter

has yet to begin

and the longest day

is long to come

after Solstice

light

slowly

slowly

returns