Mornings up North
the roar of central heat

drowning out the creek
a sign of life

in a sleeping house.
Light rain, the snow all

melted three days ago,
it had lingered a while.

A drab bird turns and turns
in the holly, but nothing

else stirs. Read the news
but then thought better

of it. The same evergreens
here as home. Sometimes

a small distance is
sufficient,

and preferable.
Sometimes rueful,

cold, intractable.
Some clouds

drift up, dissipate
on arrival.