This Morning The Birds –

this morning the birds

Ice fell in the late afternoon and then a dusting of snow. The temperatures fell and when I got up at dawn it felt like 1 below. The air is clear and utterly still now at sunrise. Only the song birds and the doves, a hand full of starlings and a fat flicker driven into the frigid morning for seed and suet.

the postcard: Winter Treewinter tree postcard

Advertisements

About wrensong

I am a poet who collects stones. I am a wanderer of creek beds and forests, canyons and high desert who, coming home, sometimes finds words to tell the story. I am a companion with others in the search for Deep, Wild Soul. I shape containers in time and space for others to come together to write, to tell their stories, to hold each other in the telling. I am a grandmother and the companion of a cat named Alaya. I often travel out into open country with a man who calls himself Dunewalker who has hung his hammock in my heart.
This entry was posted in Birds, postcard poems, winter and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s