For the crows that fill a December-dusk sky,
I would sing out loud -
bearing the smile that makes your eyes shine.
For the icy tattoos on the shivering lake,
I would share with you the secret of those dreams -
and risk your understanding.
For the last of the sun’s light lying still on these white fields,
I would tell you the truth -
hoping it means less to you than it does to me.
But there is nothing you could give me
that would bring me closer to these wintering gods -
and I would die for the hills that the sun hides behind.