Hatagoya's Desk

Wednesday, February 8, 2023

Winter Hosanna

by Meg Freer
 
The usual dawn praise of life dances
at the horizon above the valley.
A saline seep flows down the hillside
into the brine spring.
 
Sun dogs scatter light from ice crystals,
diamond dust drifts until the colours
merge into white, a halo overhead,
rays skewed from horizontal.
 
The sun dogs move away from the halo,
day moves on in earnest. Deer walk
across the valley, up the other side,
and taste salt on their tongues.

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