Friday, January 31, 2014

January 31

 The sun shines in a million tiny mirrors in the snow. The hoof prints are full of shadow where deer criss-crossed the hill. Three white hawks with black wing-tips circle slowly in the pristine sky. Three does with ears outlined in sharp black bound away, disappearing among the deer-colored tree trunks.

Chickadees calling—
this territory is mine
in case spring should come. 


  1. Thank you for this glimpse of what is out there and what is to come.

  2. Thank YOU for always having something nice to say!