A Secret Bone
Winds that have haled iced wires down
Collect here in a swirling sleep.
Snow, blue deepening in a swept oak,
And this flaking cold enclose what I've done.
The streetlight, soft gutter and curbstone,
Cars parked alongside the silence, ask
Nothing of me. I give them my keeping
Anyhow, without shame, for being common,
For being sure, like love wound in the marrow,
And last, at long last, and forever come back to,
But not easily, for forgiveness, this place in the mind,
This peace, the sweep of dark snow.