Driveway at Dusk

I love the beginning  of January

when the door slams shut on the old year

and we have a chance to start again.

Low time for New England innkeepers,

we order new sheets,

clean house,

cook comfort food for our families,

and rest.

Here I sit with my tuxedo cat,

warm by the fire

while the wind whips the snow into a dervish outside the window.

The Christmas tree leans against the porch in a snow drift

enjoying its second life as a bird feeder.

Each day I venture outside for my walk,

bundled up in my green Christmas scarf

breathing deeply the smell of the crisp clean air,

looking at the snow with the navy blue shadows

where the the meadow meets the woods.

The sky is heavy with snow,

slate gray behind the pines,

I hurry inside

as snowflakes fall in my hair.