Seawater

when you can do nothing but see
the un-walkable path, light glinting
unblemished by feet, but still
the way

winter

carves despair on one hand
redemption on the other, so hidden
for a time such as this

so stripped

we can't speak of it anymore
unlike the chickadees
or the cardinal couple
in the dying dogwood
off the west corner
of the house

and yet

this lovely curfew
remaining by
the sea