I see the wrens, sparrows, black-capped
chickadees, cardinals, a tufted titmouse.
They sing and tweet. I can’t hear them.
I’m in the house and they are black dots
darting in and out of the pines knocking
the winter white off the branches, snow
falling onto the frozen pond. I turn on
the computer and read the headlines.
They are about maniacal tweets concern-
ing little hands on a big nuclear button.
I imagine the carrot-top madman running
around yelling, “Mine is bigger than
yours.” It is snowing hard. The birds fly.
I will imagine their sweet tweets. Then
I will go out with birdseed and then I
will break the ice on the pond allowing
gasses to escape and giving the fish a
chance to stay alive in this incredibly
cold weather. The bubbler works but, in
this weather, it can’t keep the pond from
icing over. We have to do what we can
to help ensure survival.