Birds in Snow

I haven’t written a poem in years, and perhaps six poems over my entire life. Last Thursday, when a foot of snow was falling on Boston, there was plenty of time for writing and sketching.

As the snow falls

Hordes of juncos and goldfinches bicker at the feeders.

The losers wait their turn

on the rhododendron branches with their drooping leaves.

Abruptly every bird disappears.

A hawk cry?

In my cozy chair, with a cup of hot tea

and a view of the feeders and snowy trees

Cold and danger seem far away.