kicking up snow
and breaking ice
both ears filled
with the sound of songbirds,
thick in the trees up mountain.
the ravens are hungry enough
to eat compost and old spaghetti,
the long strings of white flour
tangling in their feathers.
but they have begun
to tear up the sky
in hot pursuit
and they are perching
on rooftops two by two.
flocks of little dark ducks
punctuate the inlet
and, then, pass on.
springtime, I whisper,
my breath sparkling in the air.
not six hours later
a warm rain begins melting,
melting, melting…
the snow from the branches of the trees,
the icicles hanging from my roof.
• Sarah Williams experiences poetry as clear, brave, passionate speech. For 38 years she has lived all around Alaska, mostly in a small village. What she has experienced she finds best expressed in a poem.
