And Still
SUNDAY
Maple crowns sunlit and still,
Bobcat tracks frozen and still,
March air bright and still,
Falls Brook a little frozen, a little still,
Vacuum pump not on and still,
Even the birds mostly resting and still.
Walking in the woods, her mind stills.
MONDAY
And still it’s trying to snow,
And still he’s trying to thaw out the sap line to the sugarhouse,
And still the hot water heater isn’t working properly,
And still gravity buckles time, but who can grasp it?
And still she waits for the surgeon to screw her arm back together,
And still friends call with offers of food, or rides, or sugarhouse scrubbing –
Their voices are all she can grasp today.
Mystery Photo: All who responded were correct in identifying the track as that of a bird wing. In this case, the bird was a ruffed grouse (partidge). The photo revealed neither the scale of the wing print nor the grouse’s possibly giveaway footprints. Thanks for the robust response!
Imagine these tracks plastered in the old snow around the house: bobcat, dragging its hairy feet; fisher cat, bounding like a slinky; deer, always; red squirrel, always, but not invited; mouse; rabbit. Most elusive is the bobcat. “It’s mating season,” says Tom, “so they’re on the move.”
Countdown: “…pushing that anomalous warmth into northern Vermont…,” said meteorologist Roger Hill this morning. “Up and down and sideways, that’s March.”
At 3:30 pm the temp is 35 degrees but the sap isn’t running yet. If the 2016 season stays true to its early form, the run will kick off at midnight.
your soul is alive and well in spite of this time of intense waiting. Much to learn from patiently observing.
Nina
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