SNOW I from Field Songs

Snow I

Trudging through snow.
All has succumbed
To sleep below a
Dense, white covering

The landscape's stored energy
Is waiting for an incentive
And that particular imperative
To grow.

All has been
Woven into whiteness.
Each knotted stitch
Of thread stretches

To my foot's depression
As I struggle, cautiously
For balance
And so as not to wake

From unresolved dreams
The wilderness
And the village from
Hibernation.


taken from FIELD SONGS
published 2008

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