Winter Walk

Julie Bigg Veazey

First light, wind raw on my cheeks,
   breath-clouds before my face. The path
       is slick with thin snow over leaves.
    
Reaching ahead through bristled limbs, twigs
   break off in my hand. Rocks whitened by hoarfrost,
       cattails stand out of the ice like quenched torches.
       
I see deep in the woods, a deer off guard,
   stripping bark from a young birch.  Smoke curls
       seductively from a distant chimney.
                      
Quiet settles over me like a blessing.



February, 2009

    

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