Haiku for a day in January

I wake at 4:00 but my right thumb keeps twitching as if in its own dream.

On the plowed driveway’s hard-packed snow, three dark cigars: Coyote was here.

Winter palimpsest: inside each white-tailed deer track, a coyote print.

Rabbit tracks go into the laurel thicket & don’t come out.

A rubbing sound on the underside of the floor as something turns over.

Hurtling down the hill while seated on a sled — I feel so sedate.

“Transparency.” “The rule of law.” Never before have I wept at such dull words.

Nothing has disturbed the snow on the old statue of a setter at point.