Winter Blues

by Wendy Carlisle

The birds fly out,
the wind begins, the wind flies out,
the birds begin and moonlight
sings in your mean white mouth.
Geese move, the rain
leans into snow-
fall, blowing behind the window-
glass and all up on the ridge,

the outside worries to be let in.
Cats go to the fox.
The carpenter with the ruined ankles,
grieves all our losses.

Chapter and verse, catch and release,
he says it’s just the same.
The moon goes dark. The moon flies out.
The broken-legged wind goes flat.
the cold and dark begin.

Wendy Carlisle is the author of Reading Berryman To The Dog (Jacaranda Press, 2000), Several of these poems are from an unpublished collection entitled “Decocted Life.” She lives in Texarkana, TX. “My South” first appeared in Three Candles