Winter’s End

Call off this day.

For now, are the

settling sounds of the rain.

It drums the rivers ice

in a susurrus echo.

Being heard over my movements,

as I rest.

Along the bark of this tree,

on cold still rocks I sit ....

watching the tangled leaves.

There, frozen in place

are the grounded roots.

Pulled away now

in melts and weeps;

once laid and glazed in ice.

Uncovered at the start

of winter’s end.

For out of the whispering woods-

a hunted hoof still warm.

A sparrow-hawk preening.

It’s plumage stained.

With eyes of pale lemon-yellow,

then sudden hints of red,

fresh off a finch roost taste.

I look up to see

the fish-wire crossed,

mid-cast, the fisherman’s reel

calls to man’s best friend

by the rivers edge.

While approaching slowly,

harsh chills of a billowing overcast.

It chooses to dance; swirling~

challenging the sunsets bend.

A journey through ravines,

pulse the water. Diverging spills-

side by side, as vital forces.

In a moment,

the day turns toward night.

The towers light with howling wind.

Edging decay purls-

pulling together, outward,

over the water and into the fog.

In the dark, we

take our canoe up the river.

Out of these wet,

hard-wearing clothes,

we rest.

~ Jessi (poem)