Early December in Croton-on-Hudson: (For Charles Hertz)

Spiked sun. The Hudson’s
Whittled down by ice.
I hear the bone dice
Of blown gravel clicking. Bone-
pale, the recent snow
Fastens like fur to the river.
Standstill. We were trying to deliver
Christmas presents when the tire blew
Last year. About the stalled Ford pines pared
Down by a storm stood, limbs bared . . .
I want you.