Naming the Sun (december version)

Naming the Sun

I wish I had a thousand
words for sunshine
in December

Flakes of flickering eyelids
Quartz specks sparkling in the gravel
Simmering sweat under long sleeves
_____Damn, that dried mud really hides the rust on my pickup

The dogs have buried some bones in the garden
and almost desperately scatter the topsoil

An empty birdhouse sags from the maple tree
where it’s been half-heartedly nailed

I cut and split a long-dead locust
and stacked it against the house,
a mountain
beneath a faded blue tarp

Last night’s frost dripping like perspiration
Air bubbles trapped in soft ice
Puddles shrinking
Deck boards slick with slimy black moss
A solitary blackbird perched on the gate
sunning herself