Winter light shocks like a crime scene,
Stabbing in from the side at a diagonal,
Slashing through trees with harsh, yellowed beams.
Backdrops become hazy with the blue gray of old animated cels.
Frazzled Cyprus march along the lane,
Pushing ahead of distant oak skeletons dimmed by the fog
While indigo redwoods look back across the valley
At the paintbrush blots of eucalyptus dotting the horizon.
