First & Last
Your wouldn’t know we’d had winter except for one late snowfall.
The first snow falls aday and a half. Wind carves drifts half way up
windows and doors, the top of a ten footpine plays king on the
mountain. Chimes clink, frost closes the windows behind a curtain.
A passing flock of hungry birds eats at the feeders, a black line
crowds the window sill over the door. Balloons with beaks press
on glass, they peer in, we look out. Snowdrifts close roads for
three days, our world goes inside. The storm stops, dim sun
shines. The end of snow doesn’t bring expected silence, birds in the
woods chatter so loudly it could be springtime.
late life child
in the hills