Imbolc Hare Moon
On the day we got 11 inches of snow I looked out the kitchen window into the orchard. The fruit trees had snow lining their branches, the hay bales and the wheelbarrow cum garden sculpture had disappeared and the snow climbed halfway up the tree trunks. The tall cottonwoods and cedars, beyond the orchard to the west, also had snow outlining their canopies.
Behind them the sky was a bright blue, a happy color, celebrating the freshening of the landscape.
Then, from behind the cottonwood flew a murder of crows. Blue, black, white. Sky, crows, snow. A moment in time, ephemeral like music. Dancing the ballet of earth and the heavens were the dark birds.