January Songs

Sunshine softly strokes the white flesh of tired snow drifts,

Lounging in the fields where summer lay sleeping,

Trees shiver, shrugging off their winter garments,

Eagles mate in frozen maple branches by the river,

Their strange music echoing through soggy moss curtains,

The current is swollen with storms and wind,

A muted thunder as it tosses and turns on a stony bed,

Clouds hurling themselves over the wooded ridges,

Creeping in amongst unassuming back yards and creek beds,

Hungry waterways lapping at muddy ditches and dells,

Eyeing the road with the anticipation of April rains,

Who will bring the cavalry needed to conquer the driveway,

Puddles remain on standby, pawns at the forefront of the board,

Muttering with an unassuming splash on my boots,

Impatient bulbs are trying to jump the gun, seeking thin sunbeams,

Cedar trees know better, squatting like Buddha amongst frigid loam,

The silence of deep winter, replaced by rustling of burgeoning cascades,

While the fickle breeze tugs at fern coverings over snug dens,

And seems to say:

Not long now, not long now…

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