The bones of the earth
Covered in moss -
Silent breathing
Soil life still churning.
Slipping out of form
Dissolved in formlessness –
Naked in soft winter rain.
Silence
Amidst white birch stems –
Ahh, no, the leaf carpet alive.
Down here
At the bottom of the cycle,
The bell rings
Then again –
Everywhere water droplets
Hitting the glimmering leaf carpet.
Black branches
Against the inky sky,
Arrow heads of deep ivy
Mosses and wood spurge –
No bird sound, just wind for now.
Wind music
Water music,
In the woods, late December.
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