When the Tree Comes Down

On New Year’s Day
or some day later,
reluctant to move on in time,
we clutter the room with empty boxes —

those marked with black felt-tip pens,
crooked letters scrawled to label:
“shiny bells”, “twinkle stars”,
“golden garlands”, “silvery icicles” —
hesitant to pack away the glitter

of this brief respite:
The Holy Christmas Time,
now forced to face
thin naked trees across blank skies,
gray days to come,
oursleves.

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Gallant Eagles

Gallant eagles on your nest
eighty feet up in the sycamore,

you take turns warming
three cloud-white eggs

day and night, even
in early April snowstorms

after soft gray eaglets hatch
you carefully protect them,

both parents feeding bits of trout
from the cold stream below.

You wear your white helmets with
a confidence most parents envy.

       Based on viewing the live camera at Bald Eagle nest, Decorah, Iowa

      Published in Seeding the Snow, Winter, 2011