The pond is frozen over,
except at the bottom
of the waterfall.
The old bird taps against
his mirror as if he has
found a new friend
who he doesn't
quite understand.
I woke the dogs up
too early. They went
out in the cold and
came right back
in to continue
their sleep.
The oatmeal on the
stove simmers,
provoking an
aroma that fills
the kitchen.
Nothing other
than the tall
golden grass
and the occasional
passing cars
dare to move
this cold early
morning.
Oh, yes, the
curled leaves
on the oak tree
still defiantly
dance in the wind,
determined not
to hit ground
until spring.
In the other room,
there is a philosophy
book, filled with
"deeper" subjects
like "what is piety?"
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