December Afternoon

By Clara Blair

It was a dark and stormy . . . day.
Not really. Dreary and rainy,
But the chill December afternoon
Was softened by ever-hopeful
Chirrups and tweets at the birdfeeders,
And the scent of the evergreen
We'd brought indoors.

The sound of cats disputing rights to
A favorite chair made a welcome addition
To the background noise that nattered,
Half-unheard, throughout the house:
Computer, fridge and furnace taking turns
Humming and clicking in cacophonic
Counterpoint to the television set, left
Talking to itself in one room for the
Illusion of company.

Easy to feel depressed on a day like this.
But making the effort to reach outside myself
Stirred me from my chair and took me to
The kitchen window where busy birdfeeders
In the foreground framed the limbs of the
Neighbor's giant elms, bare now of leaves
But holding nests from which a squirrel had
Emerged, sitting in silhouette on a large branch,
Having decided to eat a pecan now rather than
Bury it in a flower pot on my patio, reminding me
To savor this day.

© 2002 Clara Blair