for maria
the county will soon shiver
white in the first snows of the season.
clouds will shield the sun, moon and stars.
people will speak in soft low tones.
their animals becoming skittish,
pacing taunt in their stalls.
when frost has sent the heron south
and the pond glazed,
large flocks of birds will noisily conspire,
as waves of canadiana grey spreads south
stirring to flight those fellow wanderers
preparing to receive the bracing winds.
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its cold windy fingers prying
for cracks and holes to escape into warm rooms,
huddle around beds,
unaware of winter’s humor until
shaking bodies awaken
remembering private jokes
and how the privatest of jokes becomes
the warmest companions telling
secrets in the moments before sleep.
laughter permitting us to plan
the pathways to dream.
and that when we awake
we’ll laugh at it again and
wrap it around our shoulders
