My house is shading the snow
on the east. The dogs have
made numerous tracks during the
past few days, and the 40˚ sun
has done is best to shape the
snow by melting her edges.
It is about time for the dogs
to be fed, so they remind me
to make sure they are still on
my radar. I quietly say "food"
and they leap off the porch
to devour their dried pellets.
Looking north, I see shadows
as tall as their trees.
The branches are slow dancing
from enough of a breeze to
make the wind chimes play.
Our parakeet is discussing
the weather with his mirror.
It is an animated discussion
with some disagreement.
The dust bunnies commensurate
one another in anticipation
of the holiday preparatory vacuuming.
Realizing that their destiny
is to become one with the
inside of a dust bag is more than
most of them can stand, so they latch
on to one of the dogs hoping to be
taken outside in their quest for
immortality.
Now, later, the breeze is gone and
only one ray passes
through the tree from
the setting sun. At a second
glance, even it is dimming to
become a gentle apparition.
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