the archway a threshold
suspending the invisible veil
between winter and spring
Step Through
Satellite
receiving instructions
from last summer
on future destinations
Take The Cue
snow day
get outside
and play!
After The Storm
weighted
white blanket
a cover of stillness
Nor’easter
a flurry of falling stars
in blizzard time
there is no night or day
White River Blue Sky
the sun on snow
we bask like turtles
where we can
Still
the climbing vine
suspended in motion
green growth still a dream
Across The Lake
the deciduous grove
in winter reveals
an intimate topography
For Generations
in the sugar patch
old metal buckets
wearing their hats of snow
The Long Fence
white posts and rails
stretch farther than memory
fastening the farm in place
Sparkle
morning light
on last night’s
weightless accumulation
White Hive
the storm today
swarming
like bees
The Playhouse In The Pines
March is a time
of being between things
watching winter through the sun porch window
The Dairy’s Driveway
in the winter
like the cows
mostly black and white
Melt
only the sun knows
when the roofline
will give way
Old Rose
blossoms
gone to hips
still reaching for the sun
The Orchard In Winter
revealing the sense
of being solitary
inside togetherness
Welcomed
the softness
and mysterious white light
oh to be enveloped in silence
Stillness Settles On
in February
only snow
ascends the hay ladder
Which Way
no right way
straight or meandering
still arriving at the same place
Winter Is A Spider
weaving with cold
leaving an icy web
to catch the days upon
Calligraphy Of Leaves
the story of summer
written in winter
told by the fall
This Morning Didn’t Rise
some winter days
never seem to wake
they dream through to the next night
A River Seal Revealed
sniffing the air
perched on the birch stump
surprise visit from a fin-footed friend
This Season’s Thinness
a winter lean of snow
the ribs of old corn rows
still visible
Holding Place Until The Lamps Are Lighted
an insistence
of light within
the gathering grey
The Buddha Sits
neither chasing
nor evading
what is
All Those Times Of Reaching Out
each one mattered
even now
with the limbs foreshortened
Come Home Soon
watching for the neighbor’s light
their curl of chimney smoke
to feel so not alone
February’s Gate
ready to swing wide open
for any and all
kinds of kindness and love