February

Another day, another cold

Dark storm clouds
are rushing across  the sky
shaking the trees
in a wild dance,
bending them,
holding them prisoners.

Bright white sunlight
breaks through the shifting clouds
flitting across my desk,
drawing bizarre patterns.
Irregular shadows
harvest the settling dust.

Only a few weeks ago,
or so it seems,
the world outside
my window
was covered in a solid pack
of brilliant snow.

Remaining are mounds
of dirty snow
that slid off the barn roof,
covering and breaking in its descent
Russian Sage, Lavender,
and the climbing red Rose.

Had not this cold forced me
to watch winter’s splendor from inside,
I would have strapped on
my cross country skis
and designed parallel tracks,
thrilled to glide through the snow.

As the inside observer of
storms, sun, and shadows,
who is held hostage
by another cold,
I rather like being behind
the windows today.

Soon enough
I’ll be outside again,
assessing the damage,
pruning, cutting, trimming,
cleaning up the debris
the storm left behind.