All summer they were silent,

but now I hear them every night

rustling in the night sky

brushing each other

tick, tick click,

keeping time in the new winter-

a signal to go inside

wait for spring.


But for now, it’s a

cold thicket to avoid,

Waiting to slip from the sleep

to warmth.


Tick Tick, click,

I’m watching the narrow slit

of light through the trees,

under the star’s glances,

I put out my hand

to shut out the light.


Dave Barber

10 November 2008

Knowing the Winter