Poem

How To Survive Winter

The clever thing about my long

vigil is systems redundancy, an

economic phrase on loan from

civil engineering. Most but not all

of my observations will be made

through artfully hung

windows framing fixed objects

cunningly arranged. Take

the two carved pumpkins placed

just so among bare lilacs

last November. Drinking coffee at dawn

at the kitchen table, leaning

only slightly to the left,

I mark their daily progress toward

soft shell abstraction.

With only a minor adjustment of perspective

an angle opens on a cold

shoulder of snow concealed

from the sun alongside the shed, winter

giving me the business.

The feeders, visible from any

number of windows, draw

the usual rag

tag flock, making observations

of their own, shocked

by the relentless decline

on view indoors. At some point I'll pull

on my boots and plant

myself on the patio. I'll stand

side by side

with the hemlock and we'll

watch the shadows

across the white lawn

take ever smaller

bites.