WINTER’S CHILD

Wind cradles any wilderness you choose.
Music sung by stars: home to all things listening.

Falling snow collects in mountain hollows—
deceptive blue-white drifts, sloping mounds.

Spruce trees call you by your real name:
O human child! Wondrous child! Child with winter’s heart—

Sing your own great work!

Wind harmonics thrum through mountain trees.
One star’s thousand silver wings—the far horizon.

Snow mountain, remember child of winter!
Remember mountain sky—snow sky—her sky.


Published in: RiverSedge, Volume XXIII, Number 2