solitude

in a winter afternoon the romance,

of snowdown, treedown, alone,

in the woods small scutterings sound,

underbrush, nearby, it grows brilliantly,
dim and come alive,
come alive in a winter afternoon,

each faraway branch breaking a thump and

pulse of unknown, echo my heart
thumping pulse of unknown,

and evening, large ahead and crisp
quiet stretch, space stretch, time stretch,

breath, frozen in, frozen out, elastic

frosted thoughts reminding me:
i am alone in these woods and
there is no one to help with my plan.

in a winter afternoon the romance,

in the woods small scutterings sound,
underbrush, nearby, it grows brilliant,

come alive in an afternoon,

and evening, large ahead and crisp
quiet stretch, space stretch, time stretch,

breath, frozen in, frozen out, elastic

frosted thoughts.

winter

it is so easy to go.

one responsible, polite

breaking at a time,   

sinking unobserved into the soft horizontal sigh

of welcome, to lie down in found beds

of unhatched cicadas,

and bulbs of tulip, and tuberose sleeping

and to be still.

it is so easy to not rise 

like the crocus-bird, flying inches above some ice,

soaring amethyst and green 

against the whiteout sky