and it was bitterly cold.
I sat at my art table
feeling the sun warm my face.
Today it is up to 20 degrees
but it is very grey.
I mean very grey.
It is the dreaded " cold in your bones "
grey that New Englanders know all too well.
Even the dogs don't want to go out.....
A tufted titmouse flits about
on the branches of the birch tree,
pecking away at the branches.
For what? Bugs?
How could little bugs survive
in temps plummeting well below zero, I wonder.
It is hard enough for these tiny little birds,
their feathers puffed up against the cold.
What must it be like for anything smaller?
These are the thoughts of a lucky girl
living a life in a warm house.
Today I do not wish I were a bird.
Though flying somewhere warm doesn't sound bad.
I do not wish for anything in particular.
Well actually I do.
The sun would be good.