winter

the walk to the car-
turning my jacket collar
up against the wind
–
aging-
cold breath
on my neck

delicate saplings-
bending to the fickle will
of the winter wind
–
bare branches-
a light dusting
of fresh snow

as winter arrives
fog seeps into the valley
under a veiled moon
–
harvest moon-
the arthritic fingers
of barren trees

the low midday sun
shadows of geese noiselessly
passing overhead
–
dancing water
a clingy black shift
of morning ice

Windows glazed with ice
Outside raw winter winds are
Howling summer’s dirge

The night air’s cold hand
reaches down and pulls my breath
in shards from my chest.

Icy daggers hang
Dripping in the winter sun
Waiting for the fall.