somewhere

a bird is thinking

I should have gone south

bitter wind

sharpening its edge

on everything

a curve where the plow

lost its way in the snowstorm —

we gasp in unison

halfway down the hill

our dark blue sled gets lost

to the coming night

(HT to KS for hearing a haiku in my story)

fresh snow, fresh tracks

long before we were awake

that front yard bunny

January storm —

even our alarm clocks

take a snow day

everyone comes home

winter boots full of water —

lakeside sledding hill

college mailbox —

seeing my dad’s handwriting

for the first time

pulling up

one more blanket

as the snow comes down

traveling light

not even the last goose

looks back

first snow —

we watch our landmarks

disappearing

our brick walkway

glazed with ice this evening —

we reach for each other

Martin Luther King —

I set the gospel songs

to repeat

the long gash they cut

as a fire gap in the woods

full of fog tonight

rhythmic thwack

of a happy dog’s tail —

repeating stories

geese honking

wildly at each other

as the first snow falls

mist in motion

over the frozen lake —

she takes my hand

sweaters and socks —

we light our winter nights

with static sparks

how I love

this meadow picture of you

your hand grazing grass

ragged stalks

where the corn maze was —

we research nursing homes

back country —

even the crow stops to ask

for directions

ten days later —

we are still busy forgetting

which year this is

we sweep the snow

ahead of us as we walk

making room for more

all summer long

mosquitos whining

about the fine mesh

early storm warning —

the nurse tells us

he had a bad night

smudged sunlight

not quite masked

by clouds of snow

full moon —

she lets herself order

pie ala mode

one more morsel —

even the mice indulge

over winter break

the murmur of rain

becoming

the chatter of sleet

our quickening hearts

the moment we realize

the bat is inside

the front yard bunny

shares not one resolution —

New Year’s Day