CHRISTMAS
this tree & the unlit wood
this wood & the loamy dusk
an ice-fog enters the lungs
you cough back the wet crystals as you walk
urge the dog on through the wood
past the ruined castle
not knowing the why of this search
but it’s Christmas and something
has driven you out to the silence
where a crepuscular light is at odds
with the lit houses outside the wood
so that you feel the parental planet
still home to you the dog the elderly trees
in their December garment of trust & you
can trust a hoar that breathes
down on the wood from the high atmosphere
limitless & touching it carries you
up and out yet below in near-dark
you whirl at year’s end two circling, animal ghosts
keeping time marking the trees
skirting the lake dancing
happy & lightless with the galaxy
Poem from 'The Ark Builders', 2009, Mary O'Donnell, Arc Publications
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