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Snow is falling,
Thick fat flakes in frosty air,
Muffling despair in downy white.

Perfect crystals
Expire in graceful decay
On the window, leaving tear drops.

Sylvia
Rooks chatter in my sleep,
Stately creatures, sleek of wing in
austere black like the night's leavings.
Did you dream? With your poet's mind
And your poet's signs pointing to truth
But hidden in plumes noirs
of the churlish rook.
But look-your darkness has chased them all away...
You dream no more.