Subtle Winter

Once upon a field of snow the sparrow sang and

the wind did slow.  The lovers' bones sunk within

their chest of earth and flesh; fresh did the ground smell

in spite of its old roots and rotted fruits.  Footsteps

crossed in jagged paths of miscellaneous findings

and walkers seeking warmer bindings.  Beneath

crusted snow lay helpless silt, brought to and fro

through nearby dams rebuilt.  The sun crackled

and clucked like the morning chick, then sunk again

with dusk so slick, it melted ice on picket fences

that dead men sturdied every year; the living spare

their own expenses.  Rounded hooves trek the white,

as the horses loom and avoid frigid bite.

Looking out through panes of glass I see the world

and all the past, the footprints, trials, deaths

across the pale vast.