Nature log January 17

a month and a half

since I saw them last

I suppose you could

say I haven't now

but their hoof prints walk

white in the blue snow

down the hemlock hill

up through others woods

Poetry poses problems without answering

Overtly states things that I'd rather not know

Enters into my daydreams and nightmares

Tickles my funny bone with the light feather of wit

Reverses my opinions, or at least jumbles them into a tangle

Yet I keep reading . . .

Sleep at last . . .

The snow arrived -

every bit that didn't make it for Christmas -

burying the bird feeder

and the colored lights we turned on anyway.

But now the dormant plants

can doze

reposing

until

the next

equinox.

After a brown Christmas . . .

One crow

and a dusting of snow

carefully curated to cover

blacktop, olive lawn, shed shingles

enough to say

'Yes, there is snow in winter, Virginia . . .'

Cold Snap

The cold has come again

punctuated by crows and chickadees.

The time has come again

to take down the warming red

Christmas bows on outdoor greens,

and note the absence of red berries

harvested by migrating birds,

and confess that it's well past

the winter solstice . . .

but there is solace in the same.

New Year's Day

Business as usual

unaware of the calendar

a squirrel starts and stops

pokes his nose

between the arms of oak leaves

hoping . . .