Poem: Morning Walk, March 2005

Ice that formed on the wires overnight
Is losing its grip now,
Falling in big fistfuls,
Landing in a scattered rhythm.

A collage of frozen footprints
Preserved on the sidewalk
Soon will be dissolving
In the mid-morning sun.

The birds they have their songs
And they're sticking to them.
Sundays it's quiet enough here
To reveal the shape of their notes.

My dog is fixated on emerging scents.
Me, I'm rapt by the whiteness
Adorning leafless branches,
Pleased with the passing of winter.

M. Bogen
March 2005