Before the first sheet
of light tips over the scrubble ridge
I have come to the place
(No--still the engines hum...a
few yards more: HERE...STOP.)
Of silence. This is
the place of enormous silence.
A north wind gnaws at the
red tops of the Shumards
Water seeps from the hillside
Bubbling up through a thin
silver glaze
Runs cold down the path between
jumble karst boneyards
Winter rosettes cling to
the slick, dark mud
Pressed tight to what warmth
there is in the earth's mute prophecies
This late-blooming tall one
Winged friend of the monarch
Has broken in the first sudden,
hard freeze
Tender skin split
Veins pumping frozen sap
in translucent ribbons
Frothy white plumage ruptured
forth in
Delicate curling curtains
of ice
The cold-forced frost flowers
Are ethereal, fragile glass
Before the first light
Before penny-red sun dogs
arrive growling
Snouts strung with yellow
spittle
Coarse muddy paws trampling
Devastatingly beautiful double
sacrifice
Surrendered to my eyes alone
Next time, I would have you
come with me
I would have you crush me
with your rough body
Before the light in the ice
12/26/2001
St. Edward's Park/Bull Creek
Preserve
Ingrid
Karklins