Cold morning.
Rain freezes to the gate, speckling it with ice.
I didn’t wear my gloves but should have.
In the barn a bluejay wrestles with the window trying to get out. Zip sits on the stack of tires watching. I chase Zip away and gently wrap my hands around the bird. She’s tired and lets me. Outside the barn I open my hands and the bluejay flies high over the apple tree.
A sharp gust
of freezing wind
blows the loose hay
that I carry in my arms
into my face
It batters Jon in his bathrobe.
Lulu is edgy.
Head down, with a long whine, she pushes the sheep away from the feeder,
then goes to their feeder
and pushes them away from that one
back and forth they go…
The rope tied to the birdfeeder is frozen on the wheel of the pulley. I bring the scoop of birdseed back to the barn where White Hen is cozy in her stall.
