This Town: Winter Morning

This town has a spire,
sun on one side—fire:
morning starts to glow.

What the sun touched glistens,
every shadow listens
thin lines on the snow.

When this town was newer
morning light was truer:
heroes of the dawn

Started, pulled their shadows
far across the meadows,
broke free and were gone.

Any night we hear them
when the sunlight leaves them:
by moonlight they return

“I’m the dog of silver.”
“I’m the long-lost soldier.”
And softly where God guards the dust,
“I’m the girl who burned.”