old silk threads
new caterpillars
of snow
with snow still falling
coyote was
just here
snow fog—
trees trunks fade
into the woodwork
wet snow—
the lichens’ thirst
is evergreen
snow erasure—
upturned tree roots
glossed as wings
ice
under the slush
green dreams
snow so fresh
even pokeweed stalks
look glamorous
something taps
something falls silent
in the spruce
tree with its tongue out
forgetting for a moment
where I am
locust tree
like a folklore stag—
snow magic
snow done falling
meltwater drips
from my hat brim
witch hazel
harboring sunlight
in the form of snow
snowy stillness
a low gurgling
from my gut
among trees
dropping their snow
my pattern-seeking
middle-aged spruces
don’t we all die
from the ground up
Woodrat photohaiku 