Lune

visiting the well
my wooden bucket dipping
deep in the moonlight

alongside the lake-
the harvest moon
follows me home

Heath

splintering sunlight
broad winter shadows reaching
out across the lea

fresh snow-
a smattering
of paw prints

History

bitter grievances
at the holiday table
long past time for peace

unrelenting
a winter river
choked with ice

Seeingseeing

lies in the mirror
not what we truly are but
what we wish to be

leafless-
reflections in
the watery sky

Posthumous

pulled taut and snapping
the pole holding fast the flag
standing at half mast

icy rain
her cheeks
freshly wet

Slumber

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

frosted windows-
deeply burrowed
under blankets

Soltice

the year’s longest night
herald the winter solstice
ere the morning comes

watching our breath-
the black of night
pierced by stars

Homeless

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

a squalid doorway-
scant shelter from
the bitter cold

Frigid

contemplating life
and remembering the dead
this cold winter night

the cutting north wind-
heavily laden with
bitter freight

Solstice

absent sounds of night
muffled by the blanket of
winter’s arrival

sudden snow
a southbound flight
interrupted