At first, the world seems muffled,
swaddled in four new inches
of blanketing white-
pristine, silent.
But, as I methodically
scrape, lift, dump-
the dharma of digging out,
sounds of birds
penetrate the snow’s quiet:
“Caw, caw!” Then a burble of
the Bluejays who eat here.
And, high and tinkly,
a windchime of song-
the Purple Finch.
While I am not finding
in this March snowstorm
an invincible summer,
I am enchanted by
the Finch music.
Patricia Roth lives in a rural area of Wisconsin. She lives with her son; and they have four cats, a dog, ten chickens, and a couple of Budgies. The routines of rural life, and the rhythms of Nature infuse alot of her poetry.