Thursday, January 11, 2018

Thursday Poem - At Sunrise

At sunrise on winter days
our trail is through newly fallen white,
  every footfall a waxing moon,

muffled footsteps rising
through snow-drowned spruces,
hearts beating along in time.

Goldenrod and milkweed,
great spruces weighted under snow,
all nod in early greeting.

Ghost choirs of summer grosbeaks
sing above our heads, icicles forming
along rooflines as we pass by.

Winter rounds the village out,
smoothing the contours of house and street,
spinning deserts out of snow.

In this morning softness, I know myself
at last—perfect, still and so complete
nothing abandoned or left behind.



Lilian Nattel said...


Kameshwari said...

Today, I walked and followed in the footsteps of your words.