We wake to snow, a little
night music. The white earth
shudders — the fever breaks.
Two ducks hop the frozen pond.
The furnace stutters. Low light.
Unread books. Steady glow.
Season of holding, season of drift-
and-soon. What's spoken flutters.
The edge of want. Gusting —
What doesn't, settles. Geese
on the roof. The two of us,
still. Speak and I'll listen.