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



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



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




I am used to my solitude

surrounding me like an old quilt

keeping me almost warm enough

on this cold night




Estoy acostumbrada a mi soledad

envolviéndome como un viejo edredón

dándome un calor casi suficiente

en esta noche fría