doe in snowy woods

digging through the blue shadows in search of food

plastic trail marker

the click beetle’s antennae sweep back and forth

hydrophobia

the nocturnal fox aims its muzzle at the sun

mourning cloak

won’t your tongue get stuck to that icy snow?

way out on the ice

some small dead thing with its attendant crow

spring snow

forty blackbirds gurgle & creak in the ash tree

their calls must’ve changed

no hint of Canada now in these local geese

dead sharp-shinned hawk

only its inner eyelids have fallen shut

monarch caterpillar

there is no milkweed but milkweed

groundhog

plowing through brambles spots me through the glass

mares’ tails

a sharp-shinned hawk cuts through my trance

shining viscera

I want to pick out all the hairs