Thursday

April Ice



Robins have fluttered in and out of drifts of spring snows while songbirds have sung throughout the most raw of early spring days.  Until this day.  This day's return of ice-sheathed branches has silenced the valley for all but the crow. Corvis is a warrior. She has bathed in ice waters alongside Vikings.  She does not flinch from any element ever.  No matter the weather she'll make her raids on the meadow as sure and steady as the mail.

The small feet of the songbird will not embrace the ice slickened twiggery of the maple.  Nickel and quarter  flakes of snow falling between crusted branches seem out-sized for the chickadee who has declined a flight from the nest even for the feeder today.  I watch the crow and marvel but follow the lead of the chickadee.  This ice I'll negotiate only from my window.