“Dream of the Tundra SwanDusk felland the cold came creeping,cam prickling into our hearts.As we tucked beaksinto feathers and settled for sleep,our wings knew.That night, we dreamed the journey:ice-blue sky and the yodel of flight,the sun's pale wafer,the crisp drink of clouds.We dreamed ourselves so far aloftthat the earth curved beneath usand nothing sang but a whistling vee of light.When we woke, we were covered with snow.We rose in a billow of white.”
Joyce Sidman“Snake's LullabyBrother, sister, flick your tongueand taste the flakes of autumn sun.Use these last few hours of goldto travel, travel toward the cold.Before your coils grow stiff and dull,your heartbeat slows to winter's lull,seek the sink of sheltered stonesthat safely cradle sleeping bones.Brother, sister, find the waysback to the deep and tranquil bays,and 'round each other twist and foldto weave a heavy cloak of cold.”
Joyce Sidman, Winter Bees & Other Poems of the Cold“Dream of the Tundra SwanDusk felland the cold came creeping,cam prickling into our hearts.As we tucked beaksinto feathers and settled for sleep,our wings knew.That night, we dreamed the journey:ice-blue sky and the yodel of flight,the sun's pale wafer,the crisp drink of clouds.We dreamed ourselves so far aloftthat the earth curved beneath usand nothing sang but a whistling vee of light.When we woke, we were covered with snow.We rose in a billow of white.”
Joyce Sidman, Winter Bees & Other Poems of the Cold“Big Brown MooseI'm a big brown moose,I'm a rascally moose,I'm a moose with a tough, shaggy hide;and I kick and I prancein a long-legged dancewith my moose-mama close by my side.I shrug off the coldand I sneeze at the windand I swivel my ears in the snow;and I tramp and I trompover forest and swamp,'cause there's nowhere a moose cannot go.I'm a big brown moose, I'm a ravenous mooseas I hunt for the willow and yew;with a snort and a crunch,I rip off each bunch,and I chew and I chew and I chew.When together we slumpin a comfortable clump --my mountainous mama and I --I give her a nuzzleof velvety muzzle.Our frosty breath drifts to the sky.I'm a big brown moose,I'm a slumberous moose,I'm a moose with a warm, snuggly hide;and I bask in the moonas the coyotes croon,with my moose-mama close by my side.”
Joyce Sidman, Winter Bees & Other Poems of the Cold“What Do the Trees Know?What do the trees know? To bend when all the wild winds blow. Roots are deep and time is slow. All we grasp we must let go.What do the trees know? Buds can weather ice and snow. Dark gives way to sunlight's glow. Strength and stillness help us grow.”
Joyce Sidman, Winter Bees & Other Poems of the Cold