Branches and twigs laced in white.
I am the same.
Time has not changed me.
I feel the flame of frost
on my cheeks.
I am not forgotten.
I am not going away.
The world is not dying.
My mother is asleep as my father
My twin brother is next to me.
My children rush out the door.
My grandsons wrestle in the snow
while I watch a pillar of ice.
Catherine chats with her neighbor
while her sister is at the window
looking at the light.
A Harris falcon lifts the zenith
Mary plays the piano.
I am parallel to everything about me.
God is a little boy coming to me
snowball in hand.
His eyes are stars covered by rain.
He runs away to play with the
I am Antarctic shedding glaciers.
A penguin in formal dress.
I will cry later in bed,
a seed wanting to germinate,
whatever I want to be.
Right now looking past the trees,
holding someone’s hand.