Thursday, January 14, 2016

Thursday Poem - At Sunrise

at sunrise on winter days
our trail is through newly fallen white,
and 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.



Mystic Meandering said...

Just Beautiful, Cate! Love the last stanza - perfect, still and complete.... Indeed :)

Guy said...