Notes, December

 

folded

Notes, December

 

now the shadows are

lengthening over the snow.

November closes.

 

1:

 

clung like rot, a stump

whose roots underground

may yet

 

pulse ~

who would know though

owing to the snow-

 

hold & so early

in the season,

or late, depending on

 

your point

of view.  see, we’ve

three weeks remaining

 

of autumn. there’s 

so much I’d needed

to tend to before it all

 

came to this

slow focused letting go:

the bronzing

 

of ice beneath a night

of light white dust

the sunrise sites

 

while rising behind

the overcast sky,

in the low, no visible

 

wind.  see: the same

curled maple leaf

from a week ago is still

 

by the buddha's toe, its body

caught in the thin scrim,

half above the solid stone