Waving White as Snow

Way below freezing;
Why am I going outside?
It's so warm in here.

 

Forsythia bends--
Some creature landed on it;
A bird or a squirrel?

 

Winter or summer--
Olivia in the barn
Just chewing her cud.

 

Water flows swiftly
Escaping the touch of the ice;
Fleeing from its grasp.

Always mysteries,
Roads that wind up out of sight
To the ends of the earth.

The feeble mail box
Will it last through the winter?
It tips already.

 

The abandoned tire

Gilded by the morning ice,

Now a shining jewel.

 

They refuse to leave:
The silken milkweed seed puffs,
Waving white as snow.