Snow

Robert Frost must have stopped by the woods on a day like today:

     Whose woods these are I think I know.
      His house is in the village,  though;
      He will not see me stopping here
      To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My woods are filling with snow as huge flakes fall making a white down duvet for the trees behind my house.

The birds are fighting over seed at the bird feeder, their yellow and red beaks a sharp contrast against the snow.  A fat dove flies in and wins the fight.  The small gray birds fly away to wait.

What a beautiful day here--the snow is wet and heavy--the kind that sticks to the branches of the trees.  I hear that my grandkids are having a ball in it, sledding, throwing snowballs and building snowmen.

Me?  I am not sticking one toe out until it melts.