morning

late winter

spring comes near

open 

After the Storm

After the storm

White 

Stillness

Snow falling 

from a branch

The pond 

frozen over

Snow is melting 

Your heart gladdens

Sun needn't be a memory

Winter Hour

Where are the deer at this hour in winter?

Where do they go for warmth?

Do they feel this cold as we do?

They have not all disappeared.

I wish to know but I must settle

for in complete knowledge

at least for know

We are not meant

to know all. 

White Ocean

A white ocean

spreading silently 

over the forest

Hoof prints reveal 

The unseen 

visible 

darkness has fallen

trees rooted firmly in place

no thaw until spring

A New Day

Jumping into the winter chill outside 

even the trees shudder

Bundled in warmth

Breathing in the frost

Where do the deer roam?

How many mornings
must we live
until we find
the breathe of Winter
departed?

Winter Sleep

Don't forget to
turn on the space heater
it gets cold these nights
Close the door
to keep the heat in
Get in bed
and snuggle up
beneathe the covers
Nuzzle my chest
Fall asleep

winter morning touching my skin
the warm spot in the bed where you were
feet shuffling in the house
you are not far

Winter Day

Cold wind through grey skies

Rainfall turned to bitter hail

Stillness in the evening

Eye of the Moon

watching over us all

Grey Season

Morning begins
with a grizzled grey sky
bleeding rain onto the ground

This winter settles in
as we ready for this time

You look out your window
Wind shakes skeletal branches
Birds are nowhere to be seen

We do not migrate
Here we must remain

Two Halves

The days and nights continue to fall away from us
the way leaves fall away from branches in autumn
Winter will come and in the season of hibernation
we will dream hidden from the world of all that is
and live within the possibilities of what could be

Who are you who found me in my dream last night
You are a memory of a woman whose name I have
long forgotten yet the image of her lingered long
enough to reappear Where we were I could not say
but that is insignificant We met and we kissed and
it felt sweet and warm and kind as all loving kisses
should I can see your face and body yet i know the
dream will remain only such You linger in memory

On Mornings

A season of impending Winter
Brooding mornings
Waiting for sunlight
How long must we wait
beneathe the ashen sky

Your naked body covered
by thin sheets
I hear you breathe quietly
in perfect stillness of morning
I cannot sleep again
So I sit and listen
rather than wake you

An empty nest in the branches
of the tree No fluttering wings
back and forth to this former home
Mother and chicks since departed

Another day
Another night
How easy it is
How difficult it is
to face it all once again

Current Forms

Blooming flower at the edge of Winter
Your face basks in the chill of dawn
We gaze upon each other 
Many lives
Many forms ago
Yet we are unchanged
in our flowered essence 

Rest your head
Sleep in the peace
Of Winter's dream
Sleep well dearest
Sleep well

Joy & Grief

This world makes me weary
But it never forgets to 
Bathe me in joy.

If there were no joy
There could be no way
For any of us to continue

Cold winter morning
You do not fool me
I can see the Sun. 

Bareness

Season of bare branches
And frigid waters

Fruits have long been picked
Or fallen to the ground

Dead leaves are now hidden
Or swept away by wind

Nature sleeps soundly
As we scurry through cold

Fire as both death and life
We carry on

Snowfall

You were asleep
so I left you in bed.
It was colder
than expected
when my feet
touched the tiled
floor. I winced
and put on my
warm slippers.
I shuffled into
the bathroom to
urinate. I washed
my hands and
went into the
kitchen. I placed a
kettle on the stove
and looked out.
Snow was falling.
I watched silently
as the water boiled.
Beyond these
roads and homes,
in places so far
removed
there are men
plotting and scheming.
Their lives and
choices are
so far removed
from the world
I know that they
could be a different
species of human.
The kettle squeals
and I wonder
how many more
snowfalls remain
in my life. How
many quiet mornings
any of us have.

Season of Harvest

Winter's chill beckons
Dead leaves like fallen bodies
Hairs stand on your neck