thin sliver of moon
my bed still warm when i get back —
the night split in two

just enough sun
to re-melt the world —
icicles starting up

 snowflakes so big
I can look for the one
I’ll catch on my tongue

how would it be
if we gave in to the pull?
hibernation calls

ice with its warnings —
we slip and catch ourselves
then slip again

today’s blue sky
had no room for rest in it —
the weary flew on

February freeze —
birds in the bamboo trade notes
on where the seeds are

what if the shadow cast
was that of a red-tailed hawk —
what then?

I ducked beneath
bamboo stalks bent low with snow —
bowed heads everywhere