Bare trees move when the wind blows,
but without the tremble -
a rooted compliance.
Insects vanished, the brown decay
of apples left on branches slows
to a cold sweetness - food
for a flock of winter birds whose wings
mime absent leaves.
Too cold for snow and the river's freezing -
changing its languid voice
for a slush of stillness.
The tensile air
turns down the volume
on all loud ways.