Ancient artifact
Lies shining next to snow bank;
Mysterious use.
A new sawed off stump
Opens the view to the barn;
Its saw dust near by.
It will snow soon--
The gray sky is one big cloud;
Cold earth receptive.
Perched on dirty snow
Pine cone poised delicately
Ready to take flight.
A slice of sunlight
Cuts through the thick cloud cover
Just for a second.
Snow banks are filthy;
Trash, dirty, fallen leaves and turds
Have mutated them.
Winding and twisting
Writhing limbs of the dead tree
Are so strangely still.
Hidden in the vines
The cardinal is motionless
And thus disappears.
Howling in the woods:
Distant chain saw whines its work
Slicing the silence.
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