My mother was born on Epiphany
ninety-six years ago
Her life soon to be a phrase or fragment
added to the history book
Struggling to stand this morning she uttered
“How strange to be here at all”
Year after year snow falls on snow
branches bow shagged with ice
Today in a tangle of branches
a burnished brown doe and buck sniff about elegant and easeful
How strange to be here at all
Evergreens straight and strong
Shepherd’s star splendid bright
A frozen moon spreading silver sheen
Shifting my weight
twigs snap and shatter the scene
Doe and buck bolt deep into wood
How strange to be here at all
