I Am Tired. Spring Is Coming.

Even though
it is nearly midnight,
the air is warm enough
for the snow between the road and the barn
to feel damp and melty
below my boots.

A wind from the north
blows loose snow
to cover our footsteps
from the barn to the chicken coop,
erasing our jaunt
from just an hour ago.

The broody hen, with
her brown and black
double lace feathers,
dragged fresh hay off the ground
to fluff her nest box.

I will go back
inside
to fall asleep
again,
giving in beside the dry heat
of the wood burning stove.

 

 

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