Why are You Singing

Tufted Titmouse

Why are you singing, Mr. Titmouse?

Do you not know a blizzard is on the way?

I hear notes of romance

In your song this morning.

Are you declaring your territory,

Or enticing a mate?

It’ll be awhile yet before the nesting is begun,

But just to hear your song gives me hope

—that all is not lost

—that winter is not endless

—that crocuses will bloom again, and

—that somewhere under all that snow, there is, indeed, grass.

~Kathie Adams Brown (February 14, 2015)

The Journey

Photo of Balanced Rock at Chiricahua National Monument courtesy of Donna Simonetti

I am going hiking

To a place I’ve never been,

To the snow covered Chiricahuas

To find my place of Balance

I can hear my footfalls,

I can feel the soft snowflakes falling on my face,

I feel the others with me,

Ancient spirits walking

This same trail

Seeking their soul’s moment,

Seeking and finding their balance

In this place so far from manmade things,

In this place so wild,

One is reborn

And made new.

I hear Raven calling,

Black wings against the white,

He is sharing his wisdom

And guiding my way.

With each footfall, I hear the chorus of garooing

Sandhill cranes emerge briefly in the shifting gray clouds above

Then fade away like phantoms in the mist,

While I watch each snowflake fall softly on the earth,

And coat the ground around me, erasing my steps

I follow the trail through lichen covered boulders

To the place of Balance

In these eternal heights

And I hold on.

I hold on to this thought

while the mask covers my face

and I slip into a dream

beneath the surgeon’s knife.

~Kathie Adams Brown (December 20, 2014)

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)

In the Backyard the Rain

In the backyard the rain
pounding forms a small pond
up against the iceberg
formed by the last snow storms,
dirty snow piled high
pushed away so one can enter
this backyard landscape, a miniature version
of this wide snowy world
in transition.
Soon the crocus will bloom in the front yard.
Soon, soon.

~ Kathie Adams Brown (February 25, 2011)

Aroostook County Winter

The sun shone today.
It glistened and sparkled on the snow.
The wind blew cold upon me
And I felt trapped.
No longer does the beauty
Of this place touch me
The isolation has become a trap.
I feel that I must flee, but,
Where to?
What do I want?
Where is the place
That I can call Home?

~Kathiesbirds (1-22-98)

OSI: A Winter's Day

King Mountain Winter by Kathie Brown 1999 Acrylic on Canvas

King Mountain, Blue Solstice

Winter blue shadows fall
On golden left over grass
Evergreen ribbons drape mountain shoulders,
While gray clouds train across the valley
Chugging through the pass,
Just another winter’s day in Idaho,
Just another day to be alive
Just another winter of color
Trapped in the snow’s prisms,
In the fractured flakes melting
In the high mountain desert
Of the Pashimeroi Range,
One short day before
Hope returns with the sun.

~Kathie Adams Brown (December 21, 2008)

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