The birds are loud in the bushes this morning
BlueJay ringing,
starling medley,
lonely owl-like dove.
Wild turkeys in the cornfield across the road make sounds like thick, rolling, bubbles.
I sit on the back porch, cat in lap and cup of cocoa warming my insides.
On the road, the sound of measured horse hooves, wagon wheels
and the whoosh of cars passing them.
The plow passes only once, clanking and lumbering.
Even without the sun,
the icicles are melting,
dependable drumming on frozen slate.
