Deep Fall

When the leaves have fallen
And spilled, jewel-bright upon the earth
Save for the oaks, still crowned with blood or flame,
Then blows dark winter,
Wind by wind
Into the hollows of my spirit.

And wild wolf-herds gather
Upon the plain of my soul,
So I, in feral joy, run with them
Across the cold, leaf-based blanket of snow.

1992