at sunrise on winter days,our trail is through new fallen snow —
every footfall a waxing moon
our muffled steps rise up
through the snow-drowned trees
like flocks of pale buntings
goldenrod, thistles, milkweed,
great spruces weighted under snow —
all nod in early greeting
ghost choirs of summer grosbeaks
sing above our heads — icicles
form along the rooflines as we pass
winter rounds the village, smoothing
contours of house and street alike —
spinning deserts out of snow
in morning stillness, we know ourselves
at last — perfect and complete,
nothing abandoned or left behind.
(Cate)
3 comments:
Beautiful - but with the cold wind and snow this early morning - my footprints will only lead to the bird feeders that are close to my cottage.
beautiful....what a joy to read. This morning we had a magnificent guest...a red tailed hawk, majestically swept from tree to tree in the woods outside my window!
"....in morning stillness, we know ourselves....." yes we do, and it's when I pay the most attention.
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