Winter Solstice
[Table of Contents]
[Editor's Note]
[Masthead]
[Guidelines]
[Resources]
I lock my thumbs
and slowly flap flat hands
like my Finnish grandmother,
who with swollen joints
crow-crooked fingers
teaches me to make blackbirds
over snow, in pale northern light:
Wings to divine
in air so cold its edges mark
winter's end and spring's first pulse.
In the poised crystal I fly silhouettes
that fold closed, then open,
now in prayer, now in possibility.
___
Hallie Moore claims the Pacific Northwest as her childhood home and Finland as her ancestral home. Consequently, her Northern genes are continually challenged in her current home—the Gulf Coast of Texas. Educated at Stanford and Antioch, she writes, teaches poetry workshops, and offers private coaching for writing students.