a scene from a snowier winter, what we’re still waiting for…

`

some days I see
nothing new
the same
blue bird in bluebird blue sky
and yes it paints a lovely picture
but what I need to see
to share
and what you look for
long for
is somehow

something more

the breath of the sparrow
last year’s grass standing stiff as straw
breaking the endless white hillside
into soft waves as the wind catches
stirs and deposits
obstructed by no more than
a blade of dried grass

the tell tale tracks of the
coyote catching
the snowshoe hare, white fur
scattered on snow like
heavy grains of frost

pin holes and chipped bark
on the broad rough side of
the blue spruce
that has scattered its needles on
the fresh snow below
pick-up sticks played as a child

the orange wash of the lightening
sky spilled across the flat white
of the horse pasture
now cleared of tracks
calm as the sea on a day
when the wind holds
its breathe

it can’t just be about me
and the pretty world
I live in
and all I can do is
hope
that what means something to me
might mean something
to you

`