To wish everyone a very happy holiday season, here are three poems for winter.
Into the hollow of my garden
snow drifts, silence grows
in this secret world.
Around my hidden hollow
naked trees, wrapped in
snow blankets, stand stiff,
cloaked in glitter.
Far away, behind the screen of trees,
a train is grumbling on its way,
from west to east—or vice versa.
Still, here are no birds, no people,
nothing—only sun on snow
and, for a moment,
a breathless, joyous paralysis.
Red fox and Deer
A red fox springs out of grey winter bush,
a bronze coat his armour in thorny tunnels.
Dark eyes knowing, he parades his charms.
Waving his black-tipped bushy tail,
he runs along the icy foot path,
round the marsh, blue crinkled under
sudden, winter sun.
Then three does cross my path,
unworried by my presence, taking their time.
They know they can vanish in one leap,
their coats blending with the shadowy trees.
But they stop among the moss and long
fallen timber, turning their heads in enquiry.
I acquiesce for this is their place,
and bow my head in reply,
while around me, a chorus of birds agrees.
New Year’s Day in the City
the innocent aged abroad,
calling, ‘Happy New Year’,
expectant on shaking legs.
Then a burst of scraping spades—
and boys, making plans
for skating, walking black dog
on silent pavement.
This day provides a bridge
to view the city before it wakes.
The mighty heart turns over
amid its swinish blankets,
and closes another eye
against the sun.
Snow spumes fly from the lilac bushes,
while quietly old and young
take possession of the day,
finding in sunny, soundless streets
a fragile kingdom.