Empire I want

After the snow day

The slow sun rises on a cold day
more gold than summer
though less molten, its hurry
facilitated by the geese
pond bond. Against the clouds
holding storm each goose belly
above me is also gold, less finch
more empire I want to live in

As the day ended, clear, the sun
sizzled orange, through the trees
blackbirds streamed behind
their path nuanced, fine.
Each feather sent its own song
a breeze across a spiderweb,
a breeze on a breeze over leaves
left from daydream.

I stood my heart beating
to match theirs, my arms
awaiting wings.

The sky is shadowed by blackbirds

The wind has moved its family here, Gusty, Blowy, Freezing Breeze, and Hold Your Hat. They’ve come along with Bone Chill and occasional, Drizzle. When the sun does break past their defenses it is more like a kindergartener playing Red Rover with the upper grades it rarely gets through and then the taunting and tears begin. It is the new winter in Illinois – or what I know of winter here. Our one snow lasted a few days but that came before Solstice and surprised even the weather watchers, that snow was about six inches. There has been a dusting, a skiff of snow now and again but our main winter weather has been these cold winds and rain, a miserable combo if you must be out in it.

I’m back in school for the Spring semester. My 8 am class is Art History, Prehistoric to Gothic and the instructor started his first lecture today, he’s good at that – his banter has been painfully awkward and even he admitted, “I’m a shy person but I love this subject.” I think it’s a perfect first class for the beginning of the day. The room is very warm, so I hope the snoring is kept to a minimum for those students that struggle with the “early” hour.

I’ve been driving a new route in the morning, a little more winding through the countryside now. The sky is shadowed by blackbirds and here I pass the farm where murderers gather. Sometimes more than a dozen crows attend meetings above a barn in some old and very tall oak trees that seem to have grown just for these conferences. And the hawks! The hawks are the rulers of the roadside anywhere a perch can be made they are there, watching. Along the drive, I pass the fields that had corn this year and I have often seen turkeys hobnobbing as well. Another plus with this drive is I pass Randy’s Rescue Ranch in the morning. Rutabaga is not out at this time of day, but the horses are waiting patiently for volunteers to feed them. There is a draft mare who lives with a small golden gelding, and there is a pinto that arrived in the late fall. The only thing that would make the morning commute better is if I could stop and smell their necks on my journey; I’d leave earlier for that privilege.

Here's a picture of a fierce house finch that was not happy about sparrows hogging a feeder.