By: M. J. Steele

The hungry finches, their dusty gray coats
changed to bright yellow feathers, gathered
around the bird feeders fighting for position.
We laughed at the lazy turtle doves waiting
patiently on the ground, willing to eat leftovers.
And it was spring.

The flowers bloomed. Rainbow colors, crayon
colors, delightful to see. Blossoms filled with
the taste of summer's sweetness for the pleasure
of the energetic bees and feisty
humming birds.
And we shared another season.

In fall, the restless birds circled the fields
and lakes, noisely lamenting the coming trip
to their second home. We knew the geese in
exact formation would lead the way, gossiping
loudly as they flew overhead.
And we enjoyed autumn.

We sat by the fire, drinking cinnamon coffee and
eating chocolate cheesecake. We talked of the
future and promised forevers. Joked about getting
old and fat and had more cake and coffee. The warmth
and closeness were perfection. All I had ever wanted.
Life was wonderful.

Today as I walked the lane by the big sycamore
tree, I saw a gloriously red cardinal braving the
softly falling snow. You would have liked that.
I came in and had a cup of tea by the fire.
Autumn was nice, wasn't it?
It is winter now.
And the raven cries.