A crow
morning,
full of
crow voice
and a
soft, round sun over all. 12-4-12
Fading
now,
the yellow,
the green.
Honeysuckle’s
last yawn closing
before her
sleep. 12-4-12
Spread
across us all—
the thin
winter sun.
All the
morning twigs touch tips,
gray in
gray light. 12-5-12
Winter
brightness
good for
the hollies,
good for
me. 12-6-12
Soon they’ll
be gone—
all of
honeysuckle’s leaves.
Then it
really will be winter. 12-6-12
Winter
morning—
gray and
gray
softened by
fog. 12-10-12
The white
and blue layered sky
sits on the
winter wood
like icing
on a cake. 12-11-12
Titmouse
in the leafless sharon,
two blue
jays in the leafless crab apple,
me in the
open doorway, breathing winter. 12-11-12
The
horizontal cascade of light
passed leaf
to leaf along the hollies
rests
here, on the table,
with me. 12-13-12
No
shadows today.
The sun
is soft.
The light
comes from everywhere. 12-15-12
A strip
of sea green at the horizon,
a strip
of cobalt resting on tree tops.
A
winter-colored rainbow bringing promise.
12-22-12
The flood
of children
through the
singing elves
to a
courtyard full of first snow.
Shouts of
joy. 12-22-12
A
waterfall of light pours
from a
thin spot in the clouds.
Hollies
pass it on,
and all
the little pieces spray
like sea
foam in a breaking wind. 12-22-12
Carl
Freedman
The old
man is gone.
He left
me his smile,
his forever
smile. 12-22-12
First
light—
raw winter
light
in the
raw winter wood.
Second
light
deep inside
deep winter
clouds. 12-24-12
Light
from the ground,
light from
the sky
Quiet light,
snow light. 12-26-12
