by Jeanne Murray Walker

February 14th on the East Coast and flakes
like moths in our hemlocks, the Superfresh
abuzz when I dash in for milk and eggs.
Strangers laughing, swapping recipes in the fish
aisle. How dear we are to one another,
how shy. Small squirrels of terror leap branch
to branch. At earth’s center, the massive cedar
shudders, holds. We spot a house finch
perching in our real cedar. She barely
holds her own against oncoming sleet
and dark. Our pitch is tuned so squarely
to the middle C called hope, we sit and watch
till midnight while she bravely recreates
herself from snow and fear and love of being watched.

(from Shenandoah, Fall 2008).

Published in: on March 27, 2009 at 1:48 am  Leave a Comment  
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