Having not seen him for awhile, the fox, his bushy tail and peaked ears, soft paws on soft snow, walking his path near the creek at the edge of the woods, a snow-form in the wind.
Not given to conversation, he moves on, casting looks right and left, present, mindful, his paw prints trailing soon covered by falling snow the way sand fills your step when waves crest the shore.
Rabbits too on their path, leaving four prints and a hop and deer, a cloven mark pushed deep into the soft crystal an exclamation of presence.
Summer-tall River Oats line their path, rising with the breath then a gentle curve down
to sigh in the blowing snow.
.
..
.

.
..
.
Snowfalling Silence
Snow is a meditation
the mind being calmed
and distractions lessened
a landscape simplified
and snowfalling silence
Warmth of a fire with
snap and scent the
sounds of ice forming
on a lake in deep groan
and rolling rumbles
Our soft voices are
circling inside as
outside voices of cold
wind circle in bare
snow touched trees
Today is cancelled
There is nothing
needing doing
Just be present
.
..
.

.
..
.

.
..
.
Snow Shadows
Shadows blue grey and rosy white
soft edged and pale a canvas with
first strokes in timid application
Snow whirls around each stem in
turn leaving hillocks, berms, wells
and dunes in shadow and light
Three old men dark in overcoats
hatted in snow, seated by circle, snow
shadow covering scuffed grey shoes
.
..
.

.
..
.

.
..
.

.
..
.
Winter’s Return
Wind sculpting jewel sparkling
soft falling snow whirl swirl in
light long tree shadows under
lamps of yellow glowing
White striped limbs curly tailed
squirrels climb and birds in winter
fluff dive deep into shrub snowed
tunnels peeping back at me
How the winter changes
Everything
.
..
.

.
..
.
Snow Dancer
Poised on tiptoe, arms unfolded so
Her head in a slight bow with lights
catching crisp folds of cloth a blue
shadow on stage floor she dances
In a slow spin as music plays notes
falling like snowflakes from ceiling
clouds and the audience entranced
in nature’s score and choreography
.
..
.

.
..
.

.
..
.
In Conversation
Strong, that’s what I think
when I think of her
In motion, easy mostly
She likes hats, maybe
even one of snow, no,
too white she is colors
A long time, she has enjoyed
In her way, happy, but then–
in the curve of a sigh
.
..
.

.
..
.

.
..
.

.
..
.

…
..
.
You must be logged in to post a comment.