Visit by white bird

 The cold of winter is mysterious like cat whiskers 

here the ground frozen into granite 

there soft pliant fluffy soil as it it had spent the night in a sauna 

One morning ice points have formed where water tumbles 

another just as cold only the roof tops show the white signs of freeze

My shovel point is not a spear

it only scratches the ground 

where the tree intends to throw out roots

now enclosed in the nursery plastic pot

red and green coral bells had lain down 

seeming too injured to rise again

yet there they are poking their fine forms out and about intrepid as morning ski patrol in the frigid icy air

The plant I least understand the curry plant

lacy leaves delicate lightest abalone blue

a pair of tiny yellow flowers clinging yet

constant as lichen but soft 

gentle as sparrow’s breath

between the pomegranate and armillary 

Comes now the white bird

amidst a flock of grey doves

he watches as I set his seed near the pond

then saunters across the garden 

remembering where two days back 

the bird feeder fell to the ground