To Birth the Sunlight

It has been two weeks
Lying in bed with the flu;
Snow still has fallen.

How do they do it--
Cows there in the freezing cold
Without L.L. Bean?


Black cow on white snow
Pecks for something far below.
(There's always some hope.)

They're holes in the snow--
Dark mirrors in the whiteness.
Stream keeps on flowing.


Valiantly bending
Wood fence tries to keep back snow;
Fruitless endeavor.


Shadows in the snow
Ripple in the flowing light;
Return to blankness.

With yellow halo
Pregnant cloud awaits its turn
To birth the sunlight.

It's a lottery:
How long will this dead Fall leaf
Continue to hang?