Winter Love

brown sneakers on wet pine needles

kinship with the cold
and built for solitude,
me in my brown leather sneakers,

mashing down a wet bed
of pine needles. the memory
finds me, like a friendly dog

whose owner’s property
my trail traverses, and January
opens again resplendently,

its frost-gilded limbs growing
wet with the warming day–
how clean light crackles

through the canopy,
pinned in place by a bolt
of cirrus clouds curling

across my panning eyes,
a coasting vulture glides,
its wings a black whisper

shushing like the jagged floes
that tilt and tumble down
the rocky river’s dips

and the water’s glassy slide
draws a song of life and death
from the slick, ancient limestone

the author
Alan D. Tucker
Content Blogger, Essayist, & Novelist