Nuthatch at the window,
probing under the sill
for frozen bugs and pupae,
one eye on the glass
where, behind the bare trees,
my bare face swims up—
that odd ice
on a sideways pond
with its year-round winter…
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.
What a terrific image, windowice. Great stuff.
Thanks! It took some doing to arrive at that, as you might imagine.