Crow tracks wondering across my yard, leaving impressions in the snow, looking for a tidbit to eat I ponder?
Winter trees rustling, to catch a whisper of wend drifting through them, in vane I think but still they try.
Blue skies are being overtaken by billowing gray clouds, drifting away from someone else’s withering view.
As the sun sets behind the earth, it turns the land a muted wash of colors, which artist must envy.
Setting by my window watching as the day dances by, I realize blest I been, with a day of glories sites.
I await the twinkling of the night’s skies, so I may rest a weary head, and dream the wonders of this day.
By: Tony Andrus
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