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| A Solitary Note by T. L. Johnson On a frosted wooded break of day the white birches and grey poplars stand barren against November greys, the sprigs of twigs and branches hedged with the evening's first snow arch over the wooded heavens. Along the stilled pond's edge, wedges of golden grass crop through tufts of wintered drifts where leaning aged posts run aside frozen fields, the barbed fencing enclosing the broken sod. All is still and bleak and chilled when the tawned little sparrow perched on the lone branch of the barren birch rustles his soft brown down for warmth and heard is a melodious solitary note a lone little chirp, his hope to meet his mate after wintering the worst to scale with in harmony. |
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| Terry-Lynn Johnson copyright by author |
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