I walk through snow and woods
to see
Trees collapsed in each
other’s branches,
Held aloft by a notch or twig.
One has snapped in two,
Its splintered shards rising
like
Pikes and steeples;
The trunk bent over
Like a gate, or a bridge.
To me, it looks
forbidding.
But the dog wades out,
Through nettle and
thistle,
To the bridge of the broken
tree.
She will return, covered
in thorns.
It will take me an hour
to pluck them.
Some trees land hard;
Others are caught up in
another’s embrace,
As if it had been waiting
For that moment all
along.
So much happens where I
walk,
Peacefully, among trees,
Where, at all other times,
They riot.
Deep Winter (2012)
Deep winter.
Other people flee to warm climates
Joyful, hopeful,
Sustained by anticipation.
And though this winter has been mild,
(I think I’ve shoveled twice)
I see nothing to photograph:
A bare oak in a field,
Vacant nests among branches;
A red-tailed hawk perched on a wire
scanning the ground for a meal.
It’s Tuesday.
Valentine’s Day.
I feel a sense of loss
And the beginning of the flu.
Tired, unsentimental,
Memory does not serve.
A bench in winter, covered by snow:
Unwelcoming. Solitary.
My thoughts, far from God,
Run cold.
No comments:
Post a Comment