freezing cold night
only the continuous
eerie screech-buzz whistling
of the wind
sawing away at the eaves.
(that long-ago heard before ghostliness
the more chilling for being
so familiarly unfamiliar)

I didn’t hear the shots
but I am haunted by a voice
endlessly calling across millennial distances
unheard,
till, exhausted, it drowns and falls lost
in the depths of the vast silence of the snow.