by Kevin T McEneaney
That carpet of white snow has turned to ice….
Footprints of deer and small birds are frozen
pockets that reveal random wanderings.
*
The ice is so slippery I’ve fallen
more than once, yet I have no injury.
I trek ever so slowly on the ice
and imagine my breath freezing in air.
*
I don’t mind raw gusting wind on my cheek,
but my toes only want to speak of woe!
It’s so cold my neighbors don’t want to speak….
*
My bird feeder sways in the wind while birds
peck out the caged seeds that nourish them.
I daydream of a hot cup of green tea
as I shovel the walkway to my house….
