The frost is layered lightly on the earth today.
The Prairie Fire Crabapple tree has long lost its leaves
but its tiny apples, shriveled and cold, cling to the branches
waiting to feed the hungry birds.
Like friends gathering for a Thanksgiving feast,
the robins each found a seat at the table,
rustling their feathers as they greeted each other
in the frigid temperatures,
sending a gentle shower of hoarfrost to the mounds of snow below.
There was no lack of hearty food to go around.
The fluffed-feathered friends feasted on the bright red apples.
One by one, they delicately removed the fruit and downed the winter provisions.
I think they chatted about the coming Spring as they ate their meal...
...how they would relish a taste of a worm or two
in the bright sunshine that would warm the green grass.
But for today- no complaining of cold feet,
just the reminder of the promise that Spring will come.
"While the earth remaineth, seedtime and harvest,
and cold and heat, and summer and winter,
and day and night shall not cease."