The day brings sun and shadow, wind and snow. I put seeds out for the birds who, fluffed against the cold, huddle in the branches of the little pine. “Soon,” I tell them, as if they did not know. Already, I imagine, they have scouted the area thoroughly, picked the locations for their nests.
Now it’s just a matter of waiting. The hours of daylight must grow a little longer. The air must reach a level of consistent warmth, the snow give way to rains, the earth’s neutral hues surrender to emerging greens.
I think they are more patient than me, these little winged ones. I think they do not waste their moments yearning for tomorrows that will come regardless. They are happy that the woman has brought them seeds, that the day entertains them with its dance of light and shadow.