Three Tanka for Deer Creek

Where there is nothing

Falling fast past trees dark green

Now there are bird wings

Wind blows snow like small footsteps

I am small, I dip and turn.

we fall in such joy

Flightless and winged like nestlings

Choose paths through old trees

Is this my parsimony?

Going to no place but this, here

I hear little, snow falls

Six small figures in the storm

Winds and water high above

Snow is clouds fallen to ground

Meadows heavy, trees in contrast swaying