The pond is frozen over, fountain bubbling beneath a crown of thick
ice. A friend brings food and a red poinsettia. She tells me bluebirds
have returned to the river. This garden is a dance of sparrows,
chickadees, finches, juncos ~ and each day, a visit from the hawk.
I shop for long underwear and thick socks. The dogs shiver on their
beds. This sky opens so wide, so blue at midday ~ but the days are
narrowing down. Why now, in this quarter-moon, pre-solstice darkness, does my old
body hum with forgotten desire?
a brush of cotton
my nipples
harden
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