Thursday, January 7, 2010

January poem

January Light

Zen colored, light of absolute zero,
light of still running mountain streams,
frozen banks rimmed with ice.
New Year's bells ring in thin air.
After the eggnog, the chocolate frosted yule log,
ribbon candy, sugar cookies, January's a plain song:
a glass of cold water, a breath of fresh air.
Outside my window, there are birches in a
snowy field,
apple trees on a hill of shale,
all the grasses dried
to the color of nothing. At the feeder, there are
mourning doves, chickadees, titmice,
their feathery
breasts like clouds just before snow.

- Barbara Crooker

1 comment:

rentschler said...

How very beautiful..."all grasses dried to the color of nothing." That brought a big sigh.

From a sometimes poet, I thank you for sharing such a picture.
~Sherry (poetphoenix on twitter)