Two Poems by Rick Hartwell

 

Snowy Morning, Woodstock

Framed by frosted glass and ice crystals,
Twin scarlet birds seen in a leafless tree,
Brooding harbingers of a bloodless Winter.


Warmth drains from the room when opening
A door to refill the swaying birdhouse and
Frighted cardinals disappear into the mist.


Chittering squirrels knock wet snow from
Branches as they abandon the tree when I
Approach to replenish the next birdhouse.


I ebb back up the stairs to the porch and
Wintertide floods across the watershed,
Returning flakes, squirrels and cardinals.

Winter Twilight, Woodstock

 

Three crimson cardinals decorate the

Berry tree, bare now in January but for

Streaks of snow lining the branches;

Winter twilight and deer come forth,

Foraging for the corn and blueberries

My wife puts out, interrupting the bird

Swarms from the thicket bordering the

Watershed to the feeder - then, spooked,

Back to the treeline, ricocheting to and

Fro until my patience grows thin and I

Venture out to replenish the seed cakes.

Rick Hartwell is a retired middle school teacher (remember the hormonally-challenged?) who just moved to northern Illinois with his wife of fifty years, Sally Ann (upon whom he is emotionally, physically, and spiritually dependent), one grown daughter, and ten cats! Like Blake, Thoreau and Merton, he believes that the instant contains eternity.