a crow throws out notes
trying to find the lyrics
in the falling leaves

the sun is now tipping
to that side of the sky
and winter pulls it stitches tighter

we break
all the beautiful things
always leaving
more questions
than answers

autumn now cut
and curled away
slips asleep

the fields are afloat
in great white sheets

the trees filled
with drifts and blooms  
in the falling light

a fox
that ancient coil of flame
appears beside the dark river
contemplating codes
hidden in the snow
and the cold

what is it in life
that calls your favor?

why
after every storm

do we immediately
seek stars?

the winter fields
are thickly quilted
  
in snow
and the crows

call cold
their messages

a bold blue sky
tugs the sun

to a quick exit
last night

i saw
mother moon

floating 
in the trees

last night  
i heard

the stars
calling out

across the darkness

full moon abandons
over fields of snow

silent trees measure
what we already know

we wait in wonder
a lifetime ago

the river
wrapped in a coat
of cold grey stones

slides
its icy lines down
through the mountains

the trees
long leafless
and now heavy with snow

are ever patient
for the moon’s return

this is the season
we grow old

this is the reason
we grow young

each morning the crows  
gather in the trees

behind our house
dozens of them

calling out
carrying on

sweeping back
and forth
  
in between the tight spaces
of things
  
don’t we wish
to watch well above the world?

don’t we hope
to trace the light ascending?