WINTER RECOLLECTION

Now, when the trees stand silent,

the dead, winter scene

Stretches beyond the creaking snow horizon.

The awesome caw of a lone crow's

call

Is all which exists in the world,

of the moment

Of recollection and no other.

Now, when the horizon lies silent,

the trees creak in recollection

Of the moment when the crow flies away,

and the cold, pure vision

Of a white moon, growing bright in its ascent

through their branches.

Now, the scattered magic vision of the stars

glistening,

mapping out the Universe!

RW, first draft, July 1979, latest draft, 15.XII.92.

Copyright, Rory Winter 2013