A Winter's Quiet

Only in the Winter’s woods

Can you hear the secret, sacred sound.

The noise

Beneath the noise

Of your clamoring,

Ambling footsteps.

---

Up the ladder

Up some mountain of escape

Away from the fox

And the raven’s caw

Away from the beating thrum

Patiently waiting beneath your breast.

---

When the fight is over,

Only the cardinal remains.

Bright and red as a matador’s cape,

As bloodshed

On the fallen snow.

---

The forest is sleeping now

Underneath the old and vacant sky

No news today.

Save for the frosty tracks

Of bobcat, weasel and deer.

---

Was it a storm?

Or the woodpecker’s kiss

That bent the birch to bow?

Creating this gateway to another world.

---

Where a squirrel chitters

A warning cry

As she gambols up the tree.

And Pine boughs hang heavy

With Winter’s wise salt.

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And an icy brook

Dark as wine,

Barely babbles,

But winds on nevertheless-

Like a slow, brackish snake.

Or a melting eel

Or a otter’s spiraled spine.

---

It matters not to this quiet stillness.

For all ears are enrapt.

Listening -

To the sacred, secret sound

Only heard in the Winter’s woods

When you too,

Shed your skin -

And surrender to the season.