I gaze out my window to the back yard.
This time of year, my landscape usually
Wears a grey visage,
Dark and damp under shadowed skies.
That wring moisture like a worn-out sponge.
But today my yard lies
Beneath an unfamiliar canopy of white.
White dresses the lawn
White dulls the sharp edges of trees and shrubs
And more than anything, white fills
The empty spaces in the air
There is a nakedness here.
A rich barrenness.
A monochrome vision of white and grey
And hints of pallid green.
My eyes beg for a more vibrant touch –
Perhaps a red berry.
But there are no red berries in this landscape.
All is hushed now.
I listen attentively,
And begin to hear the crackle of silence
Between the falling petals of snow.
A hummingbird finds the ice-ringed feeder
And sips a bit of sweetness
Before flinging herself
Back into the midst of silent flakes.
David Hanig 