wind through snow through maple
blooms of mist too what of it
neither speaks nor keeps anything from us
crow holds hard to limbs figure
walking a sign figure rooted by window
slowly running hand over hand
a sign if the stars are a music
if the clouds dropping off ends
of earth a sign creek whirring
over ice eaten by silence rock a
kind of peace kind of madness a sign
yes the heart pile of ash the mind
a kind of wind through the trees through
loose leaves both signs hard
a mystery about it