Last Winter (1994)

the trees glitter like glass
shimmer like chandeliers, clattering
their crystal with each wind-creak,
shivering in shadows like silver
silhouettes as pigeons pirouette
on park benches and sparrows speak
and scatter on backyard fences, then
leap and gather on winter wires
while smoke twists and curls from
furnace fires, the birds fret their
fur and fuss their wings, then still
like statues on a string before
bursting into flight as clouds swirl
and part and the sun ignites
each bough; branch; and bark:
lit by flash, split by flame;
they burn; blaze; spark; 'til all
is singed with light, fringed with
fire, unhinged and unnamed.