Now It Is Their Time

Wet snow in bushes
Frozen into pointed shapes.
Cow waits for her hay.







Black driveway, white snow;
Black and white cat in middle.
Does it see itself?










Now the world is white;
Frosted limbs hang over stream
Still rushing swiftly.

My feet crunch on ice;
Still some yellow leaves hang on
From frosted branches.








A patch of no snow
Winds through the whitened forest;
Unfrozen hang over.


Now it is their time:
Year round Christmas ornaments
Hanging from mailbox.

Sun rays breaking through
Illuminate clouds of snow
Shaken from the trees.











Sheltered once again,
Old nest is covered by snow.
Still, no birds will come.