Barefoot Snow
Were it not for these birds
whose flight is an anchor,
it would be easy to be taken by winter —
to allow the bitterness.
And now that bondage has passed,
we face strange, strong temptations —
there is nothing so keen as endurance.
There is a heat we generate deeply,
but it will never be enough
to stay the progress of this ice:
maintaining balance,
a treacherous game.
(there is nothing you can do;
eventually it will catch us up.)
Bare feet in the snow
are not so much re-living,
as a reminder
of what it is to live.
We could follow the firebreak
to find something that still moves.
We could be so simply stifled,
or become the defiance we seek.
Take off your shoes.
Roll your pants to your knees.
See how it feels to feel it.
It never takes long.
In the meantime,
it is this combination —
caution and care,
plus that flight of eyes,
and hands like wings —
that keeps us moving
across its surface,
instead of sinking beneath.
12.13.16
(22/3)
canada geese. tracks across the iced-over marsh. coyote, perhaps. the sun’s working on clouds overhead. where it wins, the snow is blinding. flicker. cardinal. the pond is frozen and snow covered, but after such a slow autumn, I’d never trust it yet. i hate stories of people going under. 4 mallards at the riverbend. more mallards and a black duck at the bluff. downy woodpecker.
12.17.16
(22/18)
for a minute, i imagined something other than exclusion.
looking for roots 