by William Carlos Williams
All the complicated details
of the attiring and
the disattiring are completed!
A liquid moon
moves gently among
the long branches.
Thus having prepared their buds
against a sure winter
the wise trees
stand sleeping in the cold.
It seems to me the complicated details of attiring and disattiring go on throughout winter. Still a few leaves hanging on. And then there will be the snow, which turns to ice. Sometimes frost.
The snow clings in the cups of leaves, it clings where it's able.
Small snow sculptures appear.
For a short time, the trees will wear their snowy attire. Fancy dress. Formal. Posh.
In the late morning, the sun will come out, and melt the snow just a little. Small revelations.
As I stood in the stand of trees, I looked up, heard, a flock of geese, late, travelling over. A beautiful V.
The weather, I've found, only happens once.
The combination of light and snow on a leaf, for example, only happens in this precise way, once.
If I walk amid the same trees this morning, they won't be anything like this.
The sun will have melted the frost on the leaves that are yet falling, their arrival a soft cushion, refined sugar.
It's amazing how much colour there is yet, in our newly wintered world.
Later in the afternoon, my backyard. Looking west. The sun kisses the tree tops for a short time, then disappears behind clouds.
I've saved the roses for last. Soon the colour will be drained from them. I know this deeply and it hurts.
Any movement or sound is a profession of faith,
as the millstone grinding is explaining how it believes
in the river! No metaphor can say this,
but I can't stop pointing
to the beauty.
Every moment and place says,
"Put this design in your carpet!"
I can't stop pointing to the beauty, either.
I can't help but add this design to my carpet.