Their Mouths Filled With Snow

Today is slush day--
New Year opens with heat wave:
Thirty-one degrees.

A little fat bird
Leaps around in the bushes
Near an empty nest.








Like twisted white snakes
Branches hang over the field
As the sun comes out.

It is New Year's Day:
The berries are still bright red
And the snow still white.










Three large dead brown leaves
Framed starkly against the snow
Hang on forever
.











The frosted fir tree
Watches over stump buddies
Their mouths filled with snow.










Dripping from the rock
Icicles merge, melt and freeze.
They will thaw again.

My mailbox is down;
Some moron ran into it;
And now I obsess.