Saturday, January 5, 2013

Honeysuckle's Last Yawn (from the journal)

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