Te Avel Angle Tute.(Poem)

 
TE AVEL ANGLE TUTE 
 
   Sabalen 
 
   A sloped road, red winter, every thorn lancet. 
   Ice riming each bared branch; 
   thrushes thaw in their doze 
   as light ripens over 
   alarms of berries 
   in their vermilion despite. 
   Thrush-song, welling in the ear 
   of that higher song-thrush, as alert, on its tree tower. 
 
   Chakmakoos 
 
   Verglas shrugged from a caravan's glacial oilcloth. 
   Three travellers wake under the dead 
   load of a shared blanket; 
   stars still visible 
   and the blink of planets. 
   They yawn steam; three rising 
   breaths from the black tea slopped in iron 
   cans, fierce and numb, against those hardened hands. 
 
   Pattrimishi 
 
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