Winter's Last Gasp

It began with rain, pelting yellow daffodils to the ground. Sleet rode rain's coattails, staccato dings on our windshield. In the empty parking lot, black-lettered buses stood empty; no church today. Through potato-soup lunch, we watched quarter-size snowflakes cover sleet. Over hours of a long, gray day, snow mounded, transformed familiar objects into phantoms. Suet cake brought birds, squabbling for food, through the rising mantle. One kicked snow behind on the deck floor, its tiny feet scratching like a chicken. Wild Wind swept in, shoved snow off tree limbs, cleared rooftops, created a sweeping screen of white in the snowy air. World without color, a total whiteout of raw beauty, surpassed only by concern for the birds.