I watch the birds outside, while winter's indifferent winds With invisible commands Wave the bird feeder around. Winter's resolute grip, Jealously clutches The land-now snowbound. The world is under winter's spell, Fall's demure hinterland Now blanked out By the unabridged, snow-cloaked descent. All things living Hide now, or hibernate, Hoping not to be Singled out By winter's icy intent. What could not escape south Is brought to cessation, Meekly slipped underground. This frozen will, And snappy command, Now ever so cruel Brings wind's cold surround. Frost's icy cosmetician Paints the window With ghostly ferns, Resembling what the garden Meekly grew fair. A sharp blow has now Spread a hoary visage On all that valiantly Stood outside, In hopeful defiance Of the inevitable. But all must shake Against the cold ravages, Against the havoc wind That sends unruly snow Skittering ruthlessly. Except for me, Sweater-cloaked, And fire-warmed, Watching acquiescently In my comfortable chair. Tree skeletons Clack and rattle In the cold wind, To show the world They are only frozen, But not dead. They are not alone: Bird's in puffed attire, Answer empathically, Meekly seeking shelter In any leeward haven.

Feather-braced Against cold's brutish measure, They scan for seeds From their limbed lookouts. A bird's lonely speak Echoes expectantly High off the ground, That signals It's time to begin. Blue jays in the blue sky Like feathered kites, Weave and wobble Without formation Descending to the scattered seed. But the chickadees, Perching politely On their own feeder, Remove one seed at a time, Then fly off To begin the process Of hulling their Summer-borne snack. There's plenty to go around. Donning my parka, I journey out With seed supply in hand. Their patron, I ensure Their hunger will be appeased. Braving winter's onslaught, My face wind-lashed, I hurry back inside. The red squirrels Chase each other around, tumbling and squeaking In heated negotiations Who's the reddest of them all. My entertainment gone, I look out over the lake Locked into hibernation, Whose once restless waters Lapped against The rocky shore. Now a frozen vista, Save for wind-blown Snow-dune patterns Mimicking the waves That once roiled And tossed spray onto the land. In the distance Dark clouds come, Bringing more Of winter's vengeful, Smothering bane. Conifers can Barely take the added strain, Bowed and bent, Slowly rocking Back and forth Unable to shed Their weighty restrain. Everything sees the sun's brightness, But barely feel the warmth That I, and everything else So desperately needs. Spring hides somewhere Out there, Anticipating its rebound To loosen winter's hold. Come forth spring, To deliver winter's demise, Not with crashing thunderous Chaos and calamity Sure to astound But with sun's renewed succor Ensures the transition With your mighty herald, - the quiet thawing sound