but for me i find it clear

the ground is frozen
at places ice translucent
blues and greens 

as if going in mid flow

then deciding to stay 

and hold snow 

some say this is

the hardest part of the year

but for me i find it clear

all i see and be

is firm yet flowing 

glittering full of halos 

glowing sighing

lit from within almost 

yet black is even darker

starkness holds us up

presents one side or

the other both mirror like

----

A very short story

 I do not want this to be my last sentence, but it is.

*

in the/ irish hills

in the
irish hills it rained
we gathered your great grandmother's
rocking chair
small raindrops fell
even a bit on the wood  
or like on us
when you placed flowers on graves
beneath a leafless tree

by the big cross 

with nothing to anchor us

the mind begins to look everywhere

at everything 

because we are strange

yet also family here

as your grief flowed 

we drove home

saw a few flecks of 

snow by those pillars

of rock like giants 

or the people we loved

and memory grasped them

in the forests all around them

then when the grey seemed eternal

the sky lifted and showed

blue purple and yellow

then gold 

*

for deborah

the ice stayed

the ice stayed
and a small pine bough fell
scattering green and yellow needles

countless small animal tracks

crossing there with a fox following

stalking them

seen last evening late

out the back window a sleek

dusky red animal with a tail tipped with frost 

seven inches of snow

projected to fall 

*