Winter’s Grasp

01 Apr 2015

3/29/15

Winter’s Grasp

Ole Man Winter still has his
Icy fingers grasping earth.
Freezing temperatures bring frost.
The field looks like it’s been iced
With a powdered sugar coat.
Crunchy underfoot. In sun-
Light, sparkling crushed glass.
The shivering air seeks warmth
From ill-dressed human bodies.
The calendar may say Spring:
Winter never learned to read.

BAMorris

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Winged Luncheon

01 Apr 2015

3/25/15

Winged Luncheon

I looked outside this afternoon to find an entire cottage industry going on just beyond the glass of my window. There was a plethora of birds industriously looking for a meal. They were flitting and fluttering, flinging over dead leaves, and running up and down tree trunks. Majority were robins, darting a few inches, cocking a head, then diving to spear whatever creature they’d heard beneath their feet. Some were sleek and slender starlings. One plump little bird, with a gray and white back and a white breast, looked like a fat banker dressed for a fancy dinner party. Among all the dark, somber diners stalked a blazing cardinal. Nothing fazed him: not the other birds lifting up or flying in. He single-mindedly turned leaves in search of food. Once he flew to his mate, almost invisible, hunting under the big holly tree. They conferred and then he left to resume his search elsewhere.
Then I noticed the same activity high in the trees that surround the yard. Several large male Pileated Woodpeckers worked a tree, moving up and down its trunk. Two smaller redheaded birds, perhaps Downy Woodpeckers, worked another tree; circling around and around the trunk, in a corkscrew formation. An even smaller gray woodpecker worked a section apart from the others. There is little doubt that those trees are in trouble and will have to come down this year, if it houses so many insects as to feed all those birds.
I stood at the window for a long time, watching the activity just beyond my house’s walls. When I went to the front door and opened it a crack, I was assaulted by the trills and calls and songs of the hundreds of birds outside finding a meal. What a glorious day for my winged brothers!

BAMorris

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