Gallery

Breath

The night before the first snow I can’t sleep.

Fallen apples have been gathered for the deer

Black seeds are ready for birds

And covered water

Suet stocked for Northern Flickers and don’t forget the Starlings those peskies but I should admire the tenacity and yes my friend they adapt, not migrate.

In the still breath a train shifts squeeking rails

The rest sleep dreading shovel and ice

But I tell the sky “hurry ” “hurry”

It’s not due for hours, 7 which is a long time when

The earth sings her song

Prepared and welcoming

With dropped leaves making room

My heart beating with each unique snowflake

I am still here.