The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
Snowcatcher

Fingers free of pretense weave
ancient avatars from winter weft
to rewarm remembrances of those
who lie beneath the blanket of forever

Around the circle crackles the names
of the beloveds as cinders dance
to the pitch of elder branches 
who circle sit to contemplate what comes

Birch bark tethers the wasichu web
tied in the old ways with fingers knotted 
to hinder the coming deluge of white.
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