Winter

Nebraska Sunrise

 

On the verge of a pond, grass glimmers with rime.

Thin ice cracks in tatters as the temperature rises a few degrees.

Early cold sunlight seeps across the eastern plain

And lends its energy to the half-frozen water.

New mists vaporize in a minute

Like crushed diamonds

Rising on the still silent air

Awakening the loons.

 

 

Breath of Mercy

 

Hard edged cold slides in

ribs rigid, pleural sacs hold iced shards of air

lungs freeze from inside out

 

white fingernails roll over

round reddened fingers

on fire with cold

burning cold runs through each phalanx of fingers and toes

lodges in stiff knuckles immovable

in frozen jackets of useless ligaments

 

rime of sleep wraps tight

eyelids droop

sparkles of crimson, cobalt, citrine

warm the last slivers of fading, euphoric mind

Storm

 

clouds bank black against less black mountains

flying snow crosses dusky sun

fractured into winter rainbow

 

 

Cold Blue

 

blue scraps of sky

crack out clouds

 

dull winter ground

rigid brown

 

soon

snow we’ve longed for

 

 

Snowy Day

 

over pale summits no reflection

only motionless pewter sky

 

last year’s piñon branches burn

resin scent traces through cold

 

at the window first flakes

on already fat lilac buds

 

drink chamomile tea

don’t work, read poetry

 

sleep in the snowy fog

 

Chilly

 

I am used to my solitude

surrounding me like an old quilt

keeping me almost warm enough

on this cold night

 

Friolenta

 

Estoy acostumbrada a mi soledad

envolviéndome como un viejo edredón

dándome un calor casi suficiente

en esta noche fría