Winterwoods

Winterwoods

I seek you out in sorrow
you are deeply brown
with shades of purple
set against deep gray.

Here I am.
What shall I be?

In sorrow is joy, you say,
Earth is a rich
but burrowing thing,
Brandenburg concertos
play behind:
that is winter.

Winterwoods
I am more
than what I can do.
Let me just stand here
and breathe you.