Coo, Meow, Snow
At the window, I put out extra seed, a year-end toast to the birds. Two fawn doves eat and eat while sharp little tits gather and plot on a fence. The doves look around after each peck, so I sit still and try to look like a dove�s reflection. The cat, their usual demon through the glass, is just home from the vet with her left arm shaved sleeveless, seamed, full of metal. She hops and complains, sleeps, and the painkiller hasn�t worn off yet. The kid has bandaged two toy cats and two toy horses, all on the left foreleg, and crayoned an X-ray. The woman has gone out in good snow for last things and a small bottle of champagne. I sit and resolve.