crown shyness as they call it
saves the trees
from foreign entanglements
as shrinkwrapped
in ice they glitter
and shed dead limbs
now in my woodstove
a tongue of flame makes
a knot explode
smoke from my chimney
sinks to the ground
and ghosts off into the forest
where i soon follow
over the ice
with chains on my feet
seeking patches of snow
left behind by the wind
for news of spring
chipmunk forays
out of hibernation
the braided tracks of coyotes
bright green
scraps of moss
dug up by a squirrel
