Footsteps of a ghost
the hammer blow
of sunlight on white snow.
Deafening, still silent sounds
hear:

the wind whispers a tale
rough and spendthrift gales
shook last colored leaves
from autumn trees to leave
winter bareness
in blue-hued beauty.

Long and cold nights
freeze each singing stream.
Far stars transport dim lights
to ghostly trees, dissolving
into endless distance---
wide, vast, living stretches of sky.

I wander woeful in unreasoned sleep
caught in crushing coils of serpent misery.
He's there
with wild and meaningless sincerity.
I wish he wouldn't shout---

Awake, I waver still between
belief
and
doubt.
The narrowness grows wide and deep.