winter i am led
by the low sun
through shadows only
that will not leave
the root of the walls
the foot of the cypresses
in dust fallen a
season ago.

you were something
in that light
a warmth the
wind has taken back
to those turnings
you first came
to me from
i know the places
the unshifting dusk
about you always
marked you
under the eye.

today around the stone-grey
lake i heard the
ice in secret breaking
from underneath with
a dream’s tender deep bud
will no longer risk
stepping, however lightly
on that ice
the hope i held
out in you
lest i crush
new life beneath
and now a spring
is wheeling in
this sky
pigeons steadying
their wing on a
turn as broad
as time.

february 2002


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