drab brown woods:
one white mote floats down
then all at once the sky extends
her whole milky tongue
wet snow on my umbrella
whispers of collapse
evergreen woodferns fade
into fern-shaped shrouds
a pileated woodpecker’s laughter
is muffled by fog
all his improvements to a tree
must be getting whited out
everyone gets plastered
even the young pole timber
a few wood frogs still float
between the reflections of trees
as the dark pool fattens
on clumps of cloud