Winter Ride
The crunch
of boots over
hoary fields lends winter
a decent air—doilies
adorn
branches
and the barn wears a fancy coat
if you don't look too close.
Star's mane is white,
her breath
shimmers in clouds
above her as the sun's
rays dwindle. I lead her inside
the barn
and rub her down, steam rising high,
warming us both—later
stars follow me
back home.
Spirit Birth
hopping
on grasping feet,
their heads bobbing tempo
with each raucous turn of the moon,
they caw.
eyes roll with each
grimaced shadow, nameless
amongst the whispering deadfall—
arise!
shaman have infused wood with lore
before tools mar the skin;
their voices curl
over
shuddering wood coaxing each moan
of light until totem's
spirit is free
to roam.
Winter's Oath
Pillows
of white clouds dance
across a bed of blue,
promising dreams of winter's warm
duvet.
Christmas
green (dull pastures
of a season past) holds
little joy when compared to long
sleigh rides,
snowmen bristling with bright carrots
and coaled eyes; a scarecrow
sits with Dad's hat
and scarf.
Duvets
puff on hangers, the only white
as skies remain blue, then
packed away 'til
snowfall.
