when the tall tall pine
holds onto snow
I see the echo of every Christmas
Resounding
Flow
I long
to take life’s curves
as gracefully as the winter brook
Sneaking By
there below the terrace
the elusive metal heron
keeping thoughts of summer alive
Everlasting Ever Changing Unions
stone, water, branch
fallen and frozen, rushing and static
married this winter day
Sensing What Is Beyond Sight
like Mabel
the woods call to me too
beckoning with mysteries and solace
What The Lantern Occasioned
a light
without light
is how memory is made
Run Off
snow melt heads
back to to the aquifer
water always finds its way
Vacillating Temperatures
winter wavers warm and cold
mimicking the wobble
of the old garden fence
This Tree
still waving goodbye
to the trains
that no longer cross the trestle
The Road Home
etched in memory
our tracks in the snow
the hug of each curve
The Form Of Emptiness
first there was something
that is now
gone
The Day’s Philanthropy
a generous sunset
giving the colors
of a rainbow
Never An Admission Fee
there could be
no better museum
than a tree
Secrets Of The Feathered Fellowship
on gray days
being in community
creates its own kind of sunlight
Mop Of Cold
bent to the river by cold
held to new work by ice
servitude of sweeping
Skillful Play
they know to slow and cross single file
then resume full tilt running
on the other side
The Season’s Fashion
the myriad ways
winter wears white
in snow and ice, birch and cloud
January Thaw
a window into coexistence
the ice and mud
dried leaf and green grass
Winter’s Wandering Path
a smidge of snow
the glittering cold
many storms still to go
Still Green
even in winter
the grass finds
her days in the sun
Like A Sunset
although dormant
still sending colors
up to the sky
For The Storm Weary
daylight
makes some candles
just in case
Rain And Wind Storm
rain and snow compete
but mostly ice
will be the victor
Narnia
morning opened
to the enchanted world
where Aslan might call upon us
Accumulation Of Stillness
silent now
like a walk
in the clouds
Ferocious Beauty
the birch
bows down
to winter
The Particular Disposition Of Winter
a storm assembles
in the woods
the weight and shape of cold
How It Comes
barely noticeable at first
the white outline gathering
on every branch and blade
To Everything Its Counterpart
winter’s shadows
blue with cold
disputed by the sky
The Wonder Of Suggestion
precious and delicate
even the thought
of a new beginning