Winter Poem Fragment #8 (31 January, 2016)

The circle of German pine trees

My grandfather planted

Was surprisingly easy to find.

They tower, swaying so mightily

In the winter wind

That they creak

Rubbing against each other.

I lay down on the snowy ground

To gaze up at them

And at the opaque white sky behind them,

And am afraid they might come crashing down

Their needled branches thrashing together

Their trunks flexible—

Bounding and recoiling.


Winter Poem Fragment #7 (5 January, 2016)

The cold today

Was like red-penned grammar corrections

On a heartfelt poem.

After a long stretch

Of unusually temperate weather,

Stepping abruptly into it,

I gasped then held my breath

As I was afraid

To take the cold inside my lungs.

Bluish air rushed into

The gaps between my gloves and jacket sleeves.

Even indoors, I kept my heavy coat on at length.

Winter Poem Fragment #5 (January 26, 2011)

Towering pine trees

That were young in my grandfather’s youth

Sway against the winter sunset.

Some of the many geese who have occupied the small pond

In the center of town

Fly over in a neat flock of eleven,

The places where their feathers are white, glowing orange.

The ladder of pine branches

Is just above my reach.