Surprise!

Is it truly less beautiful
In March?
The flakes are hurtling through the air
Covering the land with fullers white
Each flake a crystalline work of art
Ready to sacrifice self as it is joins with others
Creating a snowy comforter atop the land.

The spring birds
Cluster at the feeders
Looking for protection
And sustenance
Only their hunger could
Coerce me out on this blustery morning
Clad in my Vermont Flannel Jammies.
The birds watch from their perches 
In nearby trees and bushes
As the black sunflower seeds are served
Their thanks vibrate through the wintry air
I sense their gratitude 
As my heart fills with warmth
No need for words
For we do not speak the same language


The snow continues to accumulate
Measured by feet now
The juncos stand out against the white backdrop
Wearing their contrasting black plumage
The goldfinches join the feast
Bits of deep yellow have emerged
Around their head and upper body
Their bills are changing to pale orange
As they release their drab winter coats
And their partial molt begins

The chickadees are true friends
Regular dinner guests throughout the year
They crunch their seeds 
While looking in upon me
Washing the dishes.

All day,
The feast carries on
The feathered guests
Puff out their coats
Holding warmth to their bodies
While perching at table
One with another.

Inside
The fire roars 
The meatballs simmer
My pen courses over the pages
 I snuggle under my blanket
A knitted shawl across my shoulders
Yes, it is spring

The seeds are germinating
Upon their heating pads
Some seedlings have erupted
Proudly displaying their cotyledon leaves
The sun is higher in the sky
The mittens, hat and heavy coat 
Were tucked away in the back of the closet

Spring is here on the calendar
But on the ground
And in the air
Winter has reappeared
Like it or not
An inconvenience to some
A gift to others
Classic New England

Is the landscape any less beautiful in March
With the sun now glistening off the crystalline coated earth?

Can true beauty be confined
To a season
Or an age?