Oxbow There are so many people in the world but today only the coyote tracks we found by the oxbow and then the field opened. When I woke this morning I was glad and I’ll tell you, the sky is more white than grey. I’m alone with the woodstove and two days left of a year. Last night we walked around the field once in patches of white and brown. The moon was full. We tucked ourselves against its edges. I didn’t want to talk, but there was talking. I speak about my day now as I pull the deer skin over my head. It’s not enough to tell you. So I’ll have to show you. Here, put this on. Now run through the woods. See the way one thing leaks into another? See how the moon looks when you’re running?
Liane Tyrrel is a poet and painter. For the past few years she has been writing poems about a haunted childhood home, memory and disappearance, animals both living and dead, and the woods and fields in New Hampshire where she lives. https://www.lianetyrrel.com/