Skeletons that rise from the soil and shake
In the bone-grating shriek of wind, or keep quiet,
Save for the creaking of joints;
Save for the breaking of limbs,
The grinding of body against earth with
A sharp cuuurunchhh.
January is a month bones:
Silent stirrings beneath the soil,
Sighs above it.
And everywhere a stillness
Before the world shakes off its slumber
To the Sun
Where it lies close and deep,
safe, asleep.
Resting soul of the seasons.
January is a month of bones.
