The day the icicles left, and the ravens came

 

It was all in all, a sublime

sunny winter day.  A day of

soft plopping snow that glided

down fir tree branches like

whipped cream off a spoon

onto a fruit cobbler mix of

sun, ravens, and woodpeckers.

The glitter of the crystallized

snow glimmered and shone with

each ray of sunshine.  The birds

called to each other and made

spring dates for which they are

sure to keep. 

There is a promise of a coming

spring that is no longer just for faraway lands, but here, and possibly, and amazingly soon. 

 

 

It’s one of those miraculous days, the kind that will stay in your memory forever, warming every February snowfall that is still to come, illuminating each gloomy day that is ahead.  It’s as if with the turning of the calendar, we turned a landmark in the winter season.  More light, more warmth, more promises.

It’s still hidden, but in spots like a color of paint that is being stripped from a old dresser, the ground will show, the very soil that we haven’t seen for so long, apparent to our eyes.

 

 

The icicles that hung like silver teeth from everything, our roofs, our vehicles, our trees, have started to drip, slowly melting, and then with sudden bursts letting go to fall to the ground.  They shatter, crystalized water, shimmer while laying on the ground, and then melt away.

 

 

The Ravens have come back, with their distinct gravelly voices that shake the quiet snow melting sounds, and scatters the birds from the feeders.

Tiny treasures, hoof prints in the snow, deer prints from our midnight visitors who dine with delight on the fallen bird seed, you are welcome, shall we leave you some carrots?

 

 

This day, the day that the icicles left, the first day that we could stand outside without shivering, is certainly a wonderful day. And I hope a indication of those to come.

Welcoming the thought of spring with open arms, whenever it chooses to arrive.

 

Jen @ Muddy Boot Dreams

 

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