January 25 - January 29 Week 56/72
the wolf moon has set the mood
snow so cold it squeaks underfoot
trees that creak and pop with slightest
push from the whistling north wind
preludes to a stage now empty and silent
the swoosh of an undulating curtain
of grackles rising up out of the marsh
sends a rush of energy out into the air
as a pileated woodpecker tap tap taps
a conductor signaling musicians
beginning with the rhythmic hum
of swan wings followed with the
entrance of familiar strings of notes
cheer, cheer of the cardinal's call
teakettle trills of a Carolina wren
tucked between the well-spaced notes
of delightful little song sparrows
familiar rhythms of winter suddenly
spiced with guest performances
three newly arrived bluebirds
tu-a-wee tu-a-wee tu-a-wee
and a bit of high drama as crows
caw caw caw at a large red-tailed hawk
till it takes flight to find another
place to roost and quiet descends
before the grand finale
hundreds of blackbirds drop to the ground
peppering the unfrozen edge of the lake
with their busy black bodies noisily chattering
splashing and scratching for food then suddenly
rising as one filling a dozen trees with canopies of song
until dusk descends and the stage darkens once again
I am without words today, so shocked by the denial of Sandy Hook, the attack by Jews to create the fires in northern California. I have retreated into my flock of crows who for some reason send sentinels to watch the stack of peanuts we leave in case a marauder is hiding. I can't feel the usual peace of winter. I am as skittery as the birds.