to the single digits, but the sun is shining
and from my place at the patio door,
and nursing a cup of coffee, it appears
much warmer, blue sky and sparkling snow.
Life goes on up here on a day like today:
the little birds gorge themselves at my feeders,
sharing space and seed among the chickadees
and nuthatch, and juncos scurrying below.
A downy joins them and they flit away,
returning when she leaves, a constant flow
of birds arriving at my feeder and departing,
each making room and waiting its turn.
The larger blue jays arrive to spill seeds below
to the juncos’ delight, and a greedy red squirrel dad shes
to join them, sits there stuffing food into his mouth,
unfazed, as I am, by their going and coming back.
Yes, life goes on these winter days at the lake;
even my own tracks in the light snow delight me,
shoveled paths from my morning chores and walking the dogs,
eager to be out, romping in the fresh snow,
leading me here to warm myself in the sun,
coffee warmed, too, reminding me why I live here,
living my life among nature, inconvenienced,
perhaps, these winter days, deceived by the cold
and the snow and the ice, and a blue sky,
but I am alive here, an outsider, observing their world,
allowed to share it through this glass that separates us,
me on one side and them, unaware, on the other.
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