December

across an icy wooden bridge

seeded by floating frozen leaves

a stream’s dark waters

slowly freezing

green wood delivered

stacked in spring

her hair tied by a scarf

like day-split alder

       no need for firewood now

         but ritual demands a holly bough

         her hair elegant like silver birch

         a grandchild has that scarf

        

while all about him wild birds warned

even the fledgling robin they had raised

too cold to snow unseasonably chill

a man whose axe will cleave a tree

copyright © Dick Russell 2014