Gifts of the Winter Witch

A venetian red yearling’s head Pops up From behind a fallen log Licks rouge from its lips And the syrup sipped from dark maple bark Ears tweaking To the snow-crunch creak Of my dog and me approaching From down the trail Forest Tamed by these trampled snow-winding paths The deer doesn’t flinch Up ahead Top of the trash receptacle Is aflutter with cardinals and sparrows Though observed The object has not coalesced to solid reality Remains a quiver of particles Withering with infinite probabilities This should not be Ah I see What it is Slices of strawberry apple orange watermelon banana cherry Have been perfectly aligned spaced and placed By somebody As juicy trails of treats for the starving Collection of fruit on a countertop log Tapped across a fencepost Table-topped to a stump Necklaced across a trailhead sign Little delectable rainbows scattered by a hand All over the park Flamingos may come Hearing these rumors I imagine The feminine work behind these succulent lifesavers The work of a woman A mother An older lady Who was determined that morning Packing plastic baggies the night before With morsels carefully counted out To be fair With a lovely variety of fruit Pinched and selected from grocery store shelves Sliced precisely by her parry knife Sorry if that presumption is not acceptable In this modern age But we all know it’s true And is beautiful Call her a wayward witch An angel Messalina Daughter of Cleopatra Mistress to Van Gogh Wife of Jesus A goddess of which we’d be so much better If she were To rule over The velvet corners of the Earth From a garden throne Men like me Bowed to her knee Like these animals and birds that she’s fed Today Beholden to the world of majik Yes We’d be so much better If we were fed from the broken-braceleted hand Of a woman Who From her kitchen window And snake-led dreams at the flight of her feet Is unafraid to say I do not fear you I will bring forgiveness to the creatures of winter Startle the men who pass by I will feed them all The fruit of my Knowledge.