the softness
and mysterious white light
oh to be enveloped in silence
Welcomed
Waiting
long line of cattails
standing patiently in the cue
for spring
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
Time’s Vision
the barn’s
one empty window
an all seeing eye
This Morning Didn’t Rise
some winter days
never seem to wake
they dream through to the next night
Pink Birch
all across the landscape
in frills of paper bark
my favorite valentine
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
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
Woodland Expression
shadows and the softness
given by distance
deliver an abstracted woods
Altitude Of Blue
the sky sharing
some of her repertoire
illustrating infinity
Through The Window
the view
enhances my outlook
on all the comforts of inside
The Sky Sighs Snow
quiet
falls down and piles up
manifesting the white depth of solitude
Just Two
all that is needed
that other one
to inhabit the world with
Resounding
when the tall tall pine
holds onto snow
I see the echo of every Christmas
Far Away And High
insistently
you knock
drawing my eye
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
Vacillating Temperatures
winter wavers warm and cold
mimicking the wobble
of the old garden fence
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
A Tenacity Of Delicacy
thrown to the ground
by a punishing wind
intricacies undaunted