The Offering by Laura Foley

The Offering

These woods
on the edges of a lake
are settling now
to winter darkness.
Whatever was going to die
is gone—
crickets, ferns, swampgrass.
Bare earth fills long spaces of a field.
But look:
a single oak leaf
brown and shining
like a leather purse.
See what it so delicately offers
lying upturned on the path.
See how it reflects in its opened palm
a cup of deep, unending sky.

by Laura Foley, from Syringa.

Editor’s Note: The spare imagery of this poem perfectly depicts the quietude of winter, and its possibilities.