winter poems

Some winter poems from last year.

winter has its own wild cry
hidden in the dusty hills 
howling under bramble and bark
there's song in the smoky morning breath 
a lullaby in the golden haze that floods your doorway 
music in the naked trees 
a silent symphony in numb, pink fingertips. 
when winter takes its hold, the world is metallic 
silhouettes with no sun, and ghosts at all the edges. 
the earth is showing its underneath,
stripped bare; true colours 
and what it reveals is an unruly spirit, 
an elderly poet, all silver and slick 
sweet slumber, sick with sleep.

~
the trees wilt and wallow in their dim light
absorbing the fierce glint off the water
winter sends it all to sleep
and the sky catches fire in the morning.
endless brown, rust grey and violet
skeletal fortresses reaching for the sun
it's heavy and silent, this hum in the air
imprisoned in ice, imprisoned in ink.