Corey

visitors' dugout. The osprey whose nest is atop
As if your human shape were what the storm
"Be off!" say Winter's snows;
Merely a mockery of spring
A rabbit carcass in its stiffened fur.
That open before me? What I see
Dismal, endless plain—
Although December's frost killed the winter crop,
In search of brighter green to come. No way!
Appear to lift up from the lake;
"Be off!" say Winter's snows;
From point to point of meaning—open? closed?—
This gap in time, this season not their own,
Archangel Winter, darkness on his back
She stretches a hand toward the toothy sleeper
Would their world not remain comfortably
and the numbed yards will go back undercover.
Blurring the terrain,
Summer bees were saying