low expectations

the wrens search the ground
for something, anything, to eat;
their expectations are low,
as the whole world groans
under a sheet of ice,
and the sun offers little help;
the diamonds still sparkle
on the harbor, but they are few,
and far out in view,
near the horizon;
they have yielded their right
to shine
to the ice crystals,
temporary, fleeting,
but today, oh so fine;
the diamonds claim that they
will return in milder weather,
and for today, at least,
the ice just laughs.



January 25, 2009.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.