In the Last Days of Winter

In the last days of winter

hungry hawks hunt my bird feeders,

the bog  thaws and refreezes

and grackles return to the north.

Red-winged blackbirds call from the swamp

their “konk-a-REE” calls trilling over calm waters.

A late February snow starts to fall

with flakes as fine as stardust.

Soon they grow to the size of feathers

white and drifting to the ground,

forming a lumpy blanket on the still brown grass

before they obscure it completely.

Outside my window the gray sky is fractured by the

limbs and twigs of oak trees, maples, and poplar.

How is it that this fractured gray world filled

with drifting snow and downy flakes

can feel so peaceful and soothing?

I am mesmerized by whiteness

and the muffling of the snow,

but the blackbird’s konk-a-REE

as he flashes his red epaulettes reminds me

that under this white blanket the bulbs are warming,

and fine green points will soon poke out their faces

to greet the light of spring.

Kathie Adams Brown (February 29, 2012)