There may be a snowdrift draped over the side yard
and it may have been minus four
when one of us (ahem) got up to walk the dog,
but at 8 a.m., when it's plus four and sunny,
and an osprey is chirping from the top of the tree next to the house,
the season of drinking coffee on the front deck has officially opened.
Pity the poor man whose wife insists on taking a photograph
before he's finished his first mugful.
The sun mellows him and he forgives the intrusion
into the long-awaited morning meditation.
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