Chickadee Dreams

While the Cailleach sleeps, gather kindling. Not to feed 

winter’s hunger but to know

with each twig snap and lichen rise

the chickadee dreams 

in squirrel branch sways and hemlock eyes. Nearby 

the nuthatch tides, sounding the sweet reed

of its body: Wait.

Wait. Wait

here, among the hare tracks and lynx trees

beneath the blue deeps

that crown the mountain. There is much 

to greet now

as the wind hoots in feathered spells

ruffled by raven wings and cross-clipped cones.

Here rests a perch for each bird

as flames leap for every cauldron 

carried, like a torch, for the spring. 

Wait here, a little longer 

under the generous spruce, near the blackened willow,

where the snow sings of light.