birds flit and dance in the wind
hovering round the feeders
jousting for position at the tray
feasting on seed and suet
cold clamps its hands around us all
holds us out to the buffeting wind
warmth is a clouded memory
light a pale gray shroud
snow is a promise held at bay
until evening; when the sky opens
flakes will tumble down
only to melt in the path of warmer air
that overnight will turn the snow to ice.
on the morrow ice will turn to rain-
on the weather map a ragged patch of
deep blue hovers northward
its fingers reaching, reaching
turning rain back to ice
and ice back to snow.
the weather favors winter just now.