Frosty Morning

A frosty morning late in winter
Lines the world in stark relief.

The tree has lost a limb or two
But stands unslanted,
Not as proud as reassured,
Resolved beneath the water
Running thinly black along
Its bathing bark.
A cardinal outside my view
Begins the day by stuttering 
A lonesome song of hopeless love,
Although a single car
Is hushing us so softly
While slushing past,
Believing birds, like old machinery,
Should bear their solitude in quiet.

I also keep my silence,
Even though
You are my favorite song
And Canada
Is still so far away.

- 1/9/26

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