Otherwise a Still Morning
It's
still
too cold
despite the
rise in temperature.
There's no one on the icy road
or frozen field, but red-tailed hawks above the height of
Annie's house across the street wheel like yarn spun in loops, play as if a perfect respite
is announced. Last year's fawn appears at my window pane
head askew, staring at my eyes.
I smile in wonder
gazing at
its sad
small
face
