Tankas from the Winter

I

A burning morsel

On a severed head’s cold tongue

All blue in nature

You await the dreadful day

When the head decides to bite

II

A call from the woods

A soft ringing from the birds

You, ringing along

Higher than the feathered beasts

Just to keep me off my feet

III

Beneath skin and bone

Resides a raw desire

A pursuit of peace

No spring I find fulfills it

No strength I have can hold it