Winter in Southern Oregon
when all you hear
is the soft sound
of downy snowflakes
settling on every surface,
every being
and all you see
is a dash of color
from a blue-glazed pot
or terra-cotta angel
that the snow fails to cover
you know
winter has arrived
when the resident hummingbird
flies by looking for food,
trying to stay alive
you are aware
that despite the muted,
innocent whiteness,
the world beyond the fence
is stirring restlessly.
Hiking Poet 