Winter Kindling
Where the white gnaws
a brook,
black Ash trees sink
waist high
in a smoking frost.
My coat is a rook's shadow.
I need to thaw a fumed silhouette,
warm my breath
from old body embers.
Ahead, robin red-flames
tattoo creaking water.
Between the tinder
and the cold flare,
a *** end of sun
ignites icicles
in a brief day-blush.
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