Just a few white dots
Sail softly through the gray air.
(Will there be millions?)
Old bird feeder rests
Against the forsythia.
Does it wait for Spring?
Snorfling her food
Olivia stands in the door
Calm and unperturbed.
Flecked with fallen leaves;
Framed with mosaic patterns--
Winter ice puddle.
Ice wind up the road;
The dead leaves are all frozen;
Only the wind moves.
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