January

Yesterday the sun was out

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.