Fat tufted titmouse
Muscles out the chickadees
Who patiently wait.
Two friends always play:
Summer, Winter, Fall and Spring;
Game is always on.
Frozen road shadows
Lie still in the frigid air--
Quiet, motionless.
All mirrors have fled
From the white frozen stream bed;
Only rocks remain.
The icy driveway
Becomes a path of bright light
In the morning sun.
Mercedes sports car
Races past me on the road,
Fleeing its demons.
All lines seem sharper
In the crisp frozen sunlight.
Silence on the road.
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