New Year’s Day
our neighbors’ boots
in the mud room

after all
the cell phone calls
the pine

a few heads nod
as a vision is retold
the candle’s flame

a winter sun
drawn in yellow crayon —
the children’s ward

split white birch
a beaver’s wake
reaches shore

the bent nail
  where garlic hung . . .
  winter moon

winter night
my wish
still among the stars

word of a death
the clarity
of winter sunlight

mud month —
a line of fox tracks
divides the field

morning warmth
a boy stretching his step
to match dad’s