18 January 2020

Dancing With The Stars

Early morning after
late night snowfall,
starlight before sunlight:

Two whirlwinds of snow,
conjured up by the wind,
lean into each other and
dance cheek-to-cheek
the empty field's parquet,
turning to two-step down
the dead end road
into oblivion.

An eagle sits atop a red pine
back on the ridge
behind the house;
across the dancers' ballroom
a raven alights on a white pine,
jawing, complaining, cajoling,
all who listen.

The pines whisper their eternal
secrets, the eagle silent, the raven
vociferous, the morning star left
to judge.

The sun rises, again, on the dead end road.

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