Winter Forms

Reflecting nacre fog and phantom sun
the river's brighter than the sky today,
a path of ripples, luminous and gray
that's trod by winter geese in black and dun.
These sober citizens in drab attire
are surely not the birds who filled the skies
of last year's autumn with their haunting cries,
that gypsy crowd, that wanderlusting choir.

Like caterpillars cryptic to confuse
predacious eyes, I dress in winter hues
and trudge the pavement, waiting for the spring's
inevitable metamorphoses
to span my shoulderblades with vivid wings
and fill my throat with calls of wild geese.


Collection available! Knocking from Inside