Light, Dark, Without End

Before I go out,
Leningrad Symphony plays--
Winter, long ago.

It said "eight degrees"
And I piled on clothing;
But it just feels crisp.


A hooting hoot owl;
Some clucking hens in the pen;
A lone bird chirping.

Sunshine lights the road
Painting the snow with shadows;
Crystalline blue sky.


Translucent dead leaf
Stuck below abandoned nest
In the bare bushes.
Is it a stream bed,
This snaky shadowed snow dune
That has direction?




The unchanging bend
Still stops at the end of sight;
Beyond there, who knows?


High into the hills
Rise trees and their snow shadows--
Light, dark without end.