Buried in the bank,
Crumbled in the filthy snow
An old can of Busch.
Repeating its cries
Bird sits in an unseen tree.
Shadows on the ice.
Coming from the pines
A duet of bird chirping.
Workmen call near house.
The news lies bluely
Shrouded in its plastic wrap--
Red hot! (And frozen.)
Glistening as ice,
Yesterday''s puddles frozen.
Have to watch my step.
Shadows splash the snow;
Driveway is an ice mirror;
Frozen breezes blow.
The melting has stopped;
Snow flows are mini glaciers;
Still, moss shines in sun.
A tree of dead leaves,
Shriveled, brown, they still hang on--
History blooming.
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