Almost March. Not that March doesn't hold freezing days, snow and ice. Still, all the creatures and live things know the light is changing. The late afternoon sun, low across the land, catches our eye and our notice, as something primordial sits up and takes note of the shift.
Birds still struggle for enough food to offset the cold temperatures that require so much protein, but are beginning to notice each other, as in, soon to be romping about, with your partner in that spring-enhanced urge, or hooking up with someone that suits your fancy, for procreation, babies, and then, so long.
High overhead, I caught sight of an Eagle a few days ago, soaring with not so much as a movement of wing. I imagined the life; the viewpoint.
Early this morning, as I stepped out replete with slippers and pajamas, polar fleece zipped up high, the dogs puttered about, and I took in the untouched beauty of the snow upon the meadows.
The sunlight breaking over the mountain range, spilling across the shadowed snows below.
The glistening of snowflakes, iridescent in late winter's repose.
As shut down Mountain Laurel slowly feeds it's buds.
As the Sparrows exit the bird houses, and have a chat, waiting for the second serving of bird seed, having risen at dawn to obliterate what was put out last night.
As the doves flutter down, safety in numbers, to fill their bellies, as they begin the dance of mating time that is approaching.
As crows and coyote know to just hang on, relieved by intermittent warmer days,
watching the light that tells us a seasonal reprieve is now approaching.
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