Forecasts by Jean Kenaud
There are berries this year on the holly.
It wasn’t always so.
They may simply be a forecast –
forecast of snow
There’s frost on the sill. I’ve seen it
glitter with diamond light.
It’s slippery, too, the traveller
must watch his step tonight.
There’s a moon as big as a melon,
and far-off – O, how far –
flickering on the horizon…
a fresh and different, star…
In the heart of man is a coldness
Through a crack in the stable door
there glimmers a new dominion.
Even ice can thaw.