Early this morning, the ice dabbed at the dogwood,
and the bird man weathered the icy deck to fill his feeders,
and, [yes, he has on shorts], add hot water to the baths.
"My birds," he said.
The ice decorated the red maple
and fringed the hook for the hummingbird feeder.
The cardinals knew how beautiful they look as they hovered about the deck
and competed with the artifice of the ice.
The ice clung to the Japanese maple.
Tallulah peered at me, the deck watcher.
Then, she came
to see this happy fellow at his feast.
The ice storm cometh.
The cat leaveth.
Turn up the heat, will ya? My paws are cold.