Deep Winter

A starling drops

from branch to

branch, it's cold

but not that cold:

the feel of cold-

ness is movement

on the skin so

walking in it

robs the air of

stillness: walking

on the half-thawed

yard you charge

the air with motion

you are a kind of

breeze a light

wind stirring still-

ness like shaking

out a rug the dust

hangs and swims

and shows a pattern

for a while, unstill.

Squirrels are every

where, they fight

and follow "chase

the leader." Where

are their larders?

They seem still

to hunt for food

in winter-waiting

weather. The only

blue is shutters

or a car. The car

sits still behind

a house: that's Sun-

day for you. The

church bells swing

sound invisible

so palpable, it's

strange. Shops

are shut. That's

Sunday for you.

Purchases can wait

for Monday. Each

day so different

yet still alike

in waiting weather.

Structure

46 lines · 2 stanzas