Winter's Dressing 

      reprinted courtesy of Lois Ellitt, 2001

Bitter cold bites into last of night's gray.

Beginning day and ending night superimpose themselves

on this nether hour, bleak half light to begin day's outdoor labor.

Wool and flannel layer against frost bound air,

yet it slides knifelike through nostril, lung.

Breath escapes to rise and writhe as small, fading ghosts.
                                                                     

Naked twigs clatter protest against wind's frozen fingers

raking through their brittle tangle,

while twisted ancient cedars drag their nails across hoary windows.

Snow squeaks beneath boot like a living thing.

There is no comfort here.

Frozen, numbed, stumbling through chores

a sparkling catches a wind-watered eye.

Winter dresses an old pail, dented, in crystal abandon.

Intricate, infinately patterned lace adorns it,

every facet glittering with diamond dust.

Myriad living rainbows arc across delicate sworls, angles lancing prism-fire

so intense one ungloves a hand to see if fingertips can feel heat.

Dawn's crescendo captured, opalescent fire shooting along cut glass webs,

each blazing alive longer, in brighter intensity 'til they explode into vapor.

Rays like greedy fingers chase retreating lace, burning it to phantom smoke,

exposing ugliness again.

But we move differently in this day, warmed from inside.

Memory holds the dream-fire, never the pail

stripped of winter's dressing.

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Web Sights

      reprinted courtesy of Lois Ellitt, 2001

In opalescent light of breaking day

fog sighs with heavy breath on rail and field.

A drifting blanket woven of dreams and gray,

the moisture of its passing much reveals.

Fine traps of silken steel compel the eyes,

stretched over grass between broken blade and stem.

Their jeweled threads the dangers do belie,

sagged down with pearls of dew as fiery gems.

The spider feeling lightly on her lines,

so light you can't detect her stroking touch.

She's patient to the point she loses time,

yet time implodes to match her charging rush.

Dew sprays as delicate legs traverse the web

to fall as tears to mourn her dance of death.

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