It was bitter cold there along the shore
as we took our exercise this morning,
the icy wind making our half hour seem more
than endless. As rainclouds began forming
we kept our steady pace while turning back,
watching as crows gathered under a tree
to glean through some refuse, their coats of black
dark and dull against the green grass levee.
Fingers pulled up for warmth into our sleeves,
holding hands through the stretchy, thick cotton,
we walked quickly back to the waiting car.
But I was loath to get inside and leave;
for quiet shared times are oft forgotten,
and they give us pause to be who we are.
05 FEB 2003
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