the greenhouse effect reconsidered
on the ice strewn lawn
i watch the awkward waltz of
hypothermic robins
consulting the Farmers Almanac
worms refuse the frost
and these red breasts
wander in a ritual of instinct
frozen in vernal expectations
layered like a Byrd expedition
I walk the woods trail
spot the cedar waxwing
another returning tenant
checking the thermostat
and at the water's edge
the ice fringe of an April salt marsh
confuses my winter soul
attempting to wake peacefully into spring
