An old poem, a new picture

 
I will write of what I know
 
…because there is in this world no one thing
to which the bramble of blackberry corresponds
a word is elegy to what it signifies.
                                               ~ Robert Haas, Meditations at Lagunitas
 
What of bullfrog’s song slicing
through a snowy night:
dirge, celebration, want?
 
At the base of Doak Mountain
the last piles of slash
are burning like luminaria,
 
by dawn the frogs will be silent
the fires out and a new crust of snow
will weigh on the pines.

 ~~M.E. Hope