Snow on Pine
the sun warms
snow clumps fall off
branches spring back
into water pearls
on needle tips
I. Pond Fire
As Cold Creek purls towards Beaver Pond,
where a skift of snow powders the shore
and the early sun makes a gossamer snood
of frost on cattail and sweet flag,
the avocet on one leg
waits in the shallows
for the pond to catch fire.
Stars hide in the shadow of the full moon
that greys the forest,
lights the skim of ice on Beaver Pond
and limns the dead juniper
that stands in the clearing
like a broken wrist.
Fern-flake snowfall blurs the pale winter sun,
reshapes the air and layers the hoar frost
rimming the banks of Beaver Pond.
One flake by one, it renews the rimed
caul that coats the blackjack pine,
whitening tree burl and needle spray
and the ruckled bark on ten thousand limbs.
Morning Meditation at the Desert Botanical Garden
still as stone,
quiet as cactus,
and boojum trees
rising like force
while the garden sits,
contented as a nested flicker.
image: Stella VM (Creative Commons BY-NC-SA)