October 19

comments 10

You said you hear the coyotes
more at night now,

that deer traipse down
the gully’s broken scree

with inherent trepidation,
their silence speaking

for them as much as any yip
or yowl.

I miss the cold nights there
when it’s so clear

a halo rounds the moon,
sharp air forcing awe

from my ungrateful lungs.
I miss the length

of a northern winter night,
with ample room

for new and old fears,
and how fresh snow

seems to temper them
best with its absolute silence,

more presence
than absence, more

an answer,
than yet another ask


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s