The hanging flower pots are weighted down with cones of hard wet snow.

On the open porch the dog sits in curled posture , sun licking his knotted locks of creamy hair, his white coat looking coffee stained next to the bright white snow.

I am twirling paintbrushes over summer shrubs in a blue green painting of the back field

now suspended in winters white emptiness, small paths of small animals engraving stories of adventure and unseen appearances, disappeared.