Winter's Passing

The View from My Window

Wintry wind whips bare and bitter cherry tree,
Near its tip sways last spring's robin's nest.

Yesterday forty black birds, starlings I suppose,
Gathered for one last frozen meal from it's boughs.

Last night's gray agents brought their white blanket;
Covering hill and field in crisp powdered splendor.

Years ago, this cover would remain for a month or more,
Cooling ground beneath and preparing spring's rich mud.

Yet this is now,
Snow is fleeting,
Next year more so,
I suppose,
Faster than before.