Some Winter Poems

by Daniel Lusk

Little blue finch has died.
I should have known
she’d not withstand cold
in her cage alone.

I buried her under the apple tree
by her mate. And then,
to linger awhile,
I pruned the tree for winter.

When light fails, I potter
out of doors. Pry rocks from the rubble
churned up from the pond
by the backhoe last summer,
flat rocks to make a wall

for snakes, for snow to hide.

Hollowness of the road underfoot
resounds in the hollow air.

Night draws shadows upward
from the ground.
Snow carrying starlight down.

Let’s call the ermine
crossing the deck to lie
by the house Snow White.

Remember the good white duck
that carried Gretel and Hansel
safely over the water.
Confined to books and classroom,
these young ones stretch
ripening bodies
under the gaze of their teacher.
They don’t mean anything by it.