winter bird

clever bird, gleaming eye a lucky pool of black
flick beak over muddled moss so quick
but seeming serene, a view on the hidden life
beetles shining darkly under stones
you know where seeds hide, where steam rises

a thief
his chirps a tiny snitch
on worms who only wish to sleep in loam
at least that is his dream, these days he's lost
on naked fingers fleeing from the trees
into air misted with heavy breath, ice underfoot
a wasteland hard and flashing white bright

sparrow too early home, you are a beacon
weak though your song might be
you are that which keeps my spirits above the frozen
lost land under mountains of rotten snow
navigating sly to those clumps of soil uncovered
thank god for clumsy hands 
and sleeping creepers waiting for the sun