Winter Questions

Five poems, five questions asked of Winter.

I

Lone goose
migrating
to whose kin
do you call out
to what invisible flock?

II

Night train
your voice running
between high-rises
over pasture fences
into bed chambers
invading dreams or insomnia
like the wailing of a newborn god
whose soul has been forced
back into a womb of grinding
metal and burning fossil fuel
do you tell your children
fairy tales full of steam?

III

Lazarus
how many breaths
did you take
before death
caught you
again?

IV

Red maple
as you slowly
undressed
quietly sliding
your autumn gown
to the cold floor
whom did you
hope to entice
who lies with you
now beneath
your roof of soil
caressing your roots?

V

Threadbare man
sitting Indian-style
your forearm tattooed
with an anchor
or a cross
how much longer
will I walk past you
leaving change
buying booze
smiling
at your feet
or your hands
never looking
into your eyes
because I know
you are "the least of these?"