Winter Night
A beginning heaves,
a slow crashing wave,
a tide,
rising in the mouth of the bay,
look up,
it’s moonlight,
waving,
the wing of a gull, stray
and laughing
in the belly of the sky.
Man hears his own weight
falling like endless heavy snow.
When the lamps go out
I’m forced to rest,
giving away that ticket to darkness,
the night grows purple,
huddling close,
birds call through the snow-stricken branches.
1/28 ’11
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