Tree in Fog

Leafless hands
Against winter sky
Reach for sun

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Hibernate

A bear hibernates
Behind an icy curtain
Of blue chandeliers

Spring Thaw

Winter’s hoarfrost melts
To reveal sensitive buds
Of purple crocus

Bloom

Prehistoric ferns of yesteryear
Sharp at first touch, yield, then melt.
Decaying earth transforms
To fresh-scented beginnings:
Frost blooms on windows.

Hunter

I recall the white
mist into which you traipsed
wrapping about you a
shawl of ice crystals

The metamorphosis into
a creature of frost, fierce
ozone and wolf fang
primal promiscuity won

the hides of conquered foes
shook, on your hips.

Snow Watch

White waves of snowdrift
A robin in the holly
Falls still and silent

Aglow

On a cold day
The thought of you
Keeps me warm

Birdsong

Sweet mute bird.
The cold season
Stays your tongue
And dampens
The fluttering
In your chest.
Yet you greet each day
With anticipation —
Awaiting
That first performance.

Longing for Spring

As another storm
Smothers the city in white
I think instead of twin blue eggs:
A robin’s nest

Eggs

At the supermart
A lack of organic eggs
Trucks entombed in snow