Yesterday's new snow
Stands at the edges of the drives,
Plowed into three-foot-high curls,
Like sea-waves, formed and frozen in time;
Reflecting a cold, indifferent sunlight…
For there will be no melting
On this frigid New England day,
As polar air drops its heavy, silent cloak,
Followed by a steely, deep night sky,
That disinvites even the wary traveler,
Surrounded by a chilling stillness,
And startled by the occasional rafter
Snapping from zero-cold withdrawal.
In the morning,
The wild birds have found the feeder,
And they luxuriate in the comfort;
They wallow in the present moment,
In the knowing that this is a new winter larder,
Full with sunflower seed and delight,
And spilling onto the snow bank below,
With Black-capped Chickadees, red Cardinals,
And Dark-eyed Juncos the first to arrive…
The first to feast, sing, and spread the news;
Happy that their winter will be warmer now.
January 8,2017
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem