Overlooking the River

In this spot where sunlight

throws sparkles off the snow,

where oak leaves tremble

in the circuitous wind

and ice melt trickles down

to lose itself in the softening snow,

where geese float and gabble and

flex their wings,

and last year's leaves 

whirl and settle and whirl again,

here where the sun 

warms my cold cheek,

and a hungry downy drums the wood,

here I will sit myself down

to watch and listen,

to hear the voice of the goose

and the chickadee,

and the singular hymn of the wind.