Blank

staring deep into
an empty sheet of paper
conjuring the muse

winter’s canvas-
a palette of pine
and fresh snow

Rising

by the temple gates
burning incense left as a
simple offering

hot springs-
steam rising from
the snow monkeys

History

bitter grievances
at the holiday table
long past time for peace

unrelenting
a winter river
choked with ice

Slumber

waiting for the thaw
beneath fallen leaves and snow
a box turtle sleeps

frosted windows-
deeply burrowed
under blankets

Homeless

a torn cap worn low
collar turned against the wind
shrouded in darkness

a squalid doorway-
scant shelter from
the bitter cold

Waste

stolen innocence-
inured to constant violence
and lost empathy

distant wildfires
a false sunset in
the eastern sky

New England

air laced with woodsmoke
thick with a rich silence as
the rain turns to snow

twilight
listening to
the snow fall

Winter

the low midday sun
shadows of geese noiselessly
passing overhead

dancing water
a clingy black shift
of morning ice

Regrowth

budding at long last
relationships long buried
exposed to the light

tawney pine straw
a squirrel caches
his winter stores

Misdirection

pulling on my hand
leading me into darkness
blind to your intent

autumn’s glory
reflections in
our tiny screens