Winter Digs In


 Moss Brook shines in the first snow fall. For the first time in a long time, I slow life’s pace to notice what’s here, at my door, and welcome more snow.


In the morning after  snow fall , there are tracks of visitors, the raccoons, porcupine, coyote, fox, deer, and squirrels move through in the snow  long before me.  The vernal pool has frozen clear.






Winter Storm

Tracks come out of the woods along the stream left by commuters

in a pristine new world stores of pinecones and acorns hidden

wind loosens trees from their burden

snow dances through the air

forming and reforming images before laying in the field

icicles hang sideways from the roof

windblown like crooked teeth

while silent birds hunker in trees

whose branches creak with new meaning

Moss Brook runs black next to white my tracks join fox,

squirrel, and deer as we search for something new

in the hushed aftermath of snow


About elainereardon

Poet, writer, gardener, herbalist, pottery, painting—bumping into magic, peeking around new corners.
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