A lone red bird looks at me;
Perched shivering,
In a hemlock tree.
I look at him,
Both wondering,
When the snow will end,
And will Spring begin?
Author’s Note: Albeit beautiful wrapped in snow, Winter represents the last season of life, sometimes coming early, sometimes staying late. Me and the redbird have stared off five years, both wondering “will Spring begin?” So far so good🙏🏻
This poem is timely today and could have no more relevance. I woke up to a blanket of 20 degrees white. Beautiful here in amongst these ancient Appalachians, and me being a bit ancient myself. Will Spring began for me and my redbird friend? I rather hope so😉