Two Poems by Joyce Anderson

Winter Morning

Snow-encrusted branches
of towering gray pines
thaw in the morning light.
A microcosm of isolated rain,
in glittering drops
of sun-teared snow
anointing the ground below.
     An early morning blessing.

I step beneath to be included.

                                         Jaka


Bone Cold

Cold winter mornings
chill my bones
until the fire is lit.
My body awakes 
relaxes, unfolds
soothed by the fire’s breath.

Outside the snow
glows morning bright,
a winter day newborn — 
numbed by daybreak’s icy chill
untrodden, cold … softly still,
     while I huddle near the ashy hearth
warmed by the crackling blaze,
     my hands hovering over
the wood-stove's edge
like wings of a moth
to a beckoning flame.

And through blood-warm lips
     my life steams out,
curls upon the hiemal air.
In soft fading puffs
of vapory mist
it is lost to a 
     bone cold world.

                              Jaka
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