By Jessica Scott
North winds blow winter’s chill across a bleak and dreary landscape.
Trees bereft of leaves bear small resemblance to their grand summer counterparts,
looking more like stick figure apparitions with moaning countenances.
Still, I love the cold and otherworldly beauty in the seeming death of nature.
There’s hope hidden in every hibernating leaf bud, the promise of spring
in evergreen bushes.
As I gaze through frost-painted windows, warm in my nest with
a cup of tea at hand, I watch the small brown birds that live in
the holly on the other side of the glass pane huddle together
and I wonder why I never stopped to think of their discomfort.
A simple shelter lined with wool, birdseed to ease their hunger,
something to keep the chill out of their bodies, and hearts.
But it isn’t too late to make a difference for them, and so I begin
pulling out materials to get them through the winter,
my homeless birds that aren’t so homeless after all.