The Birds in a Gray Sky

 

The birds flew across

a gray sky,

their dark silhouettes

catching my eye,

against the silvery clouds.

 

Always threatening to snow,

but it doesn’t,

it’s just damp and cold,

sunless days,

as the Ides of December approach.

 

Each night the temps fall,

frosty and chill,

stiff and ridged,

in the swirling,

howling winds.

 

It’s morning,

and I sit in my car,

at a traffic stop light,

as the birds

took flight.  

 

My hands are cold on

the steering wheel,

as the car’s heater slowly

comes to life,

I sigh.

 

The light changes to green,

I roll forward,

feeling some envy, for the birds,

rolling and zipping towards

the Southern sky, for warmer climes.