IN THE DEEP MIDWINTER

 

In the deep midwinter, trees disrobe and views expand

From house to woods to meadow and back.

Cedars laden, tipped yellow-brown or berry-blue

Clustered, draw purple finch and mockingbird.

The gray squirrel too enjoys its feast. 

 

With woody branch and needles bluish-green,

Red cedars spread, heavy with the scent of pine.

I watch in my holly trees the robins tangle, 

Fluttering, swooping, eating, nesting.

Shiny green hollies, gleaming red berries, clear frost, the colors of winter.  

 

Over there the Lenten Rose in mauve or rich maroon or white.

Misty flowers, dark leaves splayed against the ground.

The downy woodpecker waits for seed.

Nearby the tufted titmouse with its touch of gold

Mingles its song with the nuthatch as the light hangs low. 

There's peace in midwinter but drama too, wild and windswept,

All out my window, all out my door. 

Bare trunks sculpted, jutting rocks and now rain, only rain. 

The creek rises to meet the lashings of water,

Gnarled roots criss-cross over the ground.

 

Deep down dampness, just a sliver of safety 

Behind these walls, the air cold and stark.

Later pale shadows, warm rays grace the forest.

Later still the winter moon sits high and lights the night

A deeper moonlit blue with stars so bright they look like ice.  

Beauty in bleakness, thrilling and sparse.

In chiseled shapes on wintry walks

Hushed by snow and silent lichen, or startled by geese at dusk.

While birds overwinter so do we,

Grateful anew for the wonders we see.          by Nina Naomi