Poem

What do trees speak about in winter?
the long silences and clarity
of bone exposed to star
the echoing nights and the frivolity of squirrels
sleep and dream and waking
and the deep roots, stirring, turned
against a frozen edge of loam time
Slowly, they say,
move slowly
do not hurry
be naked
hush
the calligraphy etched on sky
will speak in it's own time