January gray
Filtering through the blank clouds;
Patches of white snow.
Not even a breeze
Touches the evergreen limbs;
Then, a car passes.
They're always prepared:
Birds waiting at the feeder;
To eat or to flee.
Enjoying the taste
Of Collette in the morning.
That's what friends are for.
Shining through bleakness
Two beacons light up the gloom
On this gray morning.
Old emperor stump
Still surrounded by courtiers
Which grow tall slowly.
Dead leaves on the tree
Dangle and hang for their lives
Even though it's passed.
Lying on the ground:
Old mailbox with its mouth open.
No more letters here.
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