Snow Song

Rising, the sun trickles pink and gold across the snow. So faint you wonder if you really see it and miss the green of sweeter seasons.

Deer tracks trace a trail across the palette, stencil in the night. I think it's one of the summer fawns. He was tiny when the winter came but Alan said he'd be all right, and so far I guess he is.

American Tree Sparrow

No bird song now. Weeks ago it ended, as the focus turned to living through the winter, with no love in sight. 

Or sound

In a few weeks it will begin again, old as time and sweet as summer. The hills will ring with joy and hearts will leap with warming sun.

But for today, two ponies shred the snow with flying hooves, sailing by a dozen times, racing, dancing, manes a-flying, silent but for snorting, muffled by the banks of white stuff.

But where is Jack? Diamond and Gambit are in the strength of middle age and full of vigor. Jack is in his 20s and over all that stuff.

They scoop him out of his sheltered corner and it's a race, two on one; snow flies in their wake.

I go out with the camera and sing to them.

Di stops to stare down at me and then they're off again.

Critics

They're everywhere.

Snow rollers on the side lawn