These hills
become
Egypt in winter
leafless mountains
transform to pyramids,
their outlines
made triangular
by winter’s dusting
forsaken branches
worship invisible goddesses —
still reaching —
their hands already full of snow
too heavy for brittle elbows
chilled joints
spell out
hieroglyphic messages
across fertile valleys
creating a contrast
like black script and parchment,
the unsigned correspondence
of cloudless literacy
white sand drifts like desert granules
a slow sunrise slices through the planks of a December barn
farmscapes sprawl
snow-anointed tractors
icicle-bitten windmills
shadowy horses carry days’ thirsts in humpless backs
all of these are like carved idols
on the other side
of an illuminated temple
through layers of linen
one can smell winter’s whiteness
even while entombed in a seasonal solstice
