The sun is at its coldest
a most distant
unreachable
unfathomable
star
in late December
rays that come late and barely linger
long enough for a brief kiss of light
it is enough for this snow enfolded space
to welcome the illumination
no matter how transient
//
The winter sun gleams through the undressed maples, ashes, and oaks
from its place low in the purple hued sky
flickering through the frosted air it penetrates the dense evergreen yew
it finds the eye of the cardinal before she lifts off
the branch waving, disrupting the morning repose
the sagacious bee 