These are the days of snow and ice

Ilse Pedler

they should be the shortest days
but they feel like the longest.

Yesterday I walked through a field scattered
with zeros, wondered if it was a message

but it was where sheep had lain overnight
and frost had frozen the grass around them.

We curl sadness about us like a cat’s tail
living our secrets – behind doors;

    I am a bird with a broken wing
       flapping against a window
    I am a lame deer dragging
      from room to room.

These are the days of snow and ice
we wake each dawn to the thinness of light.