Ice-laden branches

The weight of winter recedes

Beneath a bright sky

At night in her cot

Open-eyed dolls watch over

Frigid sleeplessness

This land was gifted

For the health of the people

Exercise, breathe deep

Autumn pheasants sat

On the roof of this old house

Dead now, shot long since

It is my pleasure

To write at dawn, before day

Crowds out my senses

A strand of wet wool

Ensnared on a barbed wire fence

A graven image

Feeling as edgy

As a dog in a field of sheep

Anticipation

How empty the streets

Now that we know the danger.

Of being human

Between night and day

A golden strip of cloud spreads

Silent awakening

In the old forest

No movement, no sound, a lamb

A tangled thicket