Mostly it’s like this: the western slope deep
in fading oak and maple leaves, the brown trunks
of the trees rising to a gray sky. No wonder,
I say to myself, I am beginning to long for spring.
A friend emailed me a single word this morning,
“ROBINS!!!!” it said, painting hope all over
my laptop’s screen. “WONDERFUL!” I replied,
We don’t normally shout at each other like that.
But spotting the first robins calls for exuberance.
So there’s that. The scouts have arrived.
Later in the day, when I gazed out the window
a motion caught my eye. Deer! See them?
There, by the yellow anchor for the utility pole.
Two of them, the doe staring back at me,
freezing the moment in some kind of greeting,
a mutual recognition of each other’s being,
here on this winter hill, between snows.