Scarlet Winter

A red-shafted flicker lights on the upper branch
of the apple tree over by the fence.
He fervently searches in all directions
before flying to the next branch,
nervously searches, flies to the next,
until he reaches the bird feeder
with its suet cake. I watch as he pecks,
searches, pecks. His horizontal brown black
stripes emphasizes his size. He is fluffed
against the cold, gray sky.
Finally he turns his black eye my way,
the red on his head bright
against all the brown-gray of the day.
Indifferent he stares me down
before flying out of sight.
I feel as desolate as the day
with his abandonment.



Karla Freckleton Burkhart
January 8, 2011

Today is winter

January 3

The wan, winter sun
lowers itself heavily towards
the western hills long
before eventime. A dove
hunches in the apple tree
blending in color with
the bare, bent limbs.
Snow clings to fence
and tree, impervious to
sunlight through winter haze.
Chickadees and finches
flit from branch to feeder
to roof top to branch
in endless motion. Is it
warmth in movement
or fear of frost that makes
them twitch and swoop?
Glistening white peaks
stab the ice-blue sky.



Karla Freckleton Burkhart
January 3, 2011