The squirrels have found a way to the bird feeder
The cardinals have stopped coming
quiet here at night
just the heater
on and off
and
off and on
always a wonder
how or why
and
why or how
The bird feeder
woke me from my nap
A constant wind
keeping it from stillness
Do the birds
still feed from it
Or simply watch from afar
until nature calms itself
snow
brings silence
everything
just a whisper
“why are you collecting rock?’ i asked
“because they’re in my fields,” he said
“i want the crops to grow.”
we were silent a time.
“i also like them heaped at the ends of the rows;
little monuments to labor.”
day;
just a shimmer
above pines.
frigid,
exhalation of lust.
moisture on the windows
sun entering
soft this time of year
outside a bird calls out
not once
or twice
i do not know when it began
i do not know when it will end
