Through a pane of glass I watch snow fall on fallen snow,
Birds' feet gently pattern the ground where they dig for seeds,
The red one, a Cardinal, shows its breast and the others scatter,
With a thud a small brown adventurer feels the cooled glass.
It lies still on its side and blinks at me, it cannot move.
The others are still driving their beaks into the soft snow.
Now a few gaze at the downed flyer with what seems like wonder,
At last legs and wings frantically flutter and everything is okay.
The Cardinal takes no notice of the affair, or so I'm thinking
as it stands tall and still like it's watching the snow drift down,
So I gaze out too, as every fluffy flake finds others to join.