Winter Sparrows

It’s New Year’s Day,
the first day of 11 more weeks of winter.

The shabby little bushes
along the edge of the yard
hold a dusting of snow
and a pair of brown sparrows,
whistling their whims to each other,

and all the stores are closed
because today is the day
to watch the Rose Parade,
to dismantle the tree
and box up the ornaments,
to get a head start on our taxes,

or we could opt to stay in bed,
unfazed by the significance
of the date on the calendar –
by the pile of post-holiday credit card bills,

content to rest like winter sparrows
chirruping softly beside their mates,
grateful for a little shelter –
be it ever so humble – from the cold.
 

By Lisa Lindsey