The storm makes everything beautiful,
though not without a price
and the loose karma
of what winter brings
to these fallow fields and cozy homes
means some face struggle
while others
merely a cheery fire
and frosty windows.

None of that
defeats
the icy hush
of sharp frozen stillness, though,
blanketing these streets and yards.

Nor is it anything special;
just the way
sometimes warm and bright,
sometimes cold and dark,
here with snow and ice
there with a quick Spring rain.

They say it's not the wind blowing,
anyhow,
just the work of mind.

I say the ice
coating and polishing the world
to an apparent stop
is no less
nor more
than two days before,

so warm then
the robins believed
it was time to build nests.