Chilly creek water scoots the last of the stripped
trees' rags through rocks. Underneath dark ice
minutely snowspeckled overnight,
the odd bubble of trapped air wriggles
this way & that, all but organism-

Say I absconded with my little life!
All October this woods blew to tatters &
fussed over its clutter in skittish leaves;
now it prides itself taller & sleek
in its most elegant dishabille,

& so as I mull over for my insurgent
humor what it will wear today, I'll pick
frayed browns, siennas to umber, & slick
black like these not-quite-heart-
shaped toothy damp popple flags.