When, MM's 10th Holiday Classic Options

[Critter]

When (First published in tinfoildresses, Winter Issue, February 5, 2010.)


it began is lost like the first flake of the ice age.
But it was and is all about time. Remember that.
The arrow birds were gone and long landed surely.
The ears of the sun drooped lowest;
the hound with just a dream of scent
knowing a cold trail was warm somewhere,
beginnings in the endings.

Yes, the time when grouse drowsed deep in snow,
when sky muted the woods
except for the occasional crack of heartwood.
Under the full moon by the frozen lake
you could watch your breath drift
almost to the other side,
and you’d forget to breathe.
I’m sure someone said; “It takes your breath away.”

That was when, and where was here, in this land
of fires and furs. The mystics have claimed
and filled it with mythical creatures,
but it was real then, real as a hole
in the chinking, real as the depth of stores,
real as the time that stretched before . . .

They knew festival, knew
that it was time to regroup and bond, knew
they must be ready and waiting
to welcome the wanderer
who always returned.

Time for the best cuts,
for nuts and sweet berries,
pretty things,
special caches down in the roots
and crooks of trees,
wooden toys and whistles,
drum and song,
syrup on snow,
and yes, there were mittens
trimmed with wolverine
from Gramma
there at the beginning.