First Snow
On the porch the laughing buddha is blanketed by snow
pocketed and out of sight
like a ruffed grouse
diving into downy covers for the night

Ice crystals hang in the air at dawn
sundogs shimmer around the rising sun
it is a good day
as the seasons rise and fall

 

Chickadees go about their business on a cold winter morning
There is a brightness to winter
even on an overcast morning like this
snow amplifies the sunlight
challenging the memory of summer’s plentitude

I step out to fill the bird feeder
the cold air fires into my face
sunflower seeds rattling and tapping
as they tumble into the plastic cylinder

It occurs to me then
after all these years of study and meditation
I am not a buddhist and never have been
the chickadees seem unfazed