February

Don’t be misled, deceived

by the higher temperatures,

20s, 30s, blue skies and sunshine;

or a rodent predicting winter’s end.

Heaven's Hunter

The heaven’s hunter, Orion, familiar, easily found,

steadfast, a blessing, perhaps, in times of change,

looks down upon us from his place in the winter sky,

a tear falling at the loss of our stories, our lives, our selves.

Still Small Voice

That still small voice we’re taught to listen to is not so still anymore,

nor small, a flurry now of arms and legs and chattering, toddler size,

that small voice I held on my lap and rocked to sleep, followed behind

his clumsy steps to dust off the dirt when he fell, set him aright, and off

we go, reminding me what’s important, where life and purpose lie,

          a voice discovering himself and the world,

                    growing and learning and becoming … Cam.

Foxes in my Yard

His paws are imprinted into the new fallen snow, leaving behind

a path to follow into his wintery world, meandering these woods

we share, but we will not follow him, nor seek him out as we face

our own wintery world of cold and snow and the tasks at hand;

perhaps, though, we should stop and, stumbling forward, seek him out

even as he seeks us here meandering, too: a message, an answer, a sign.