It is cool, but above freezing. Water drips from the gutters on my house behind me. A large chunk of something I can not see falls with a sound in the southeast corner of the yard. A light from the park next door streams across the snowbank in the southwest corner of the yard and the fence on the west side of the property casts its shadow. A police siren sounds and stops, but nature is not disturbed. No birds fly. No squirrels scamper. The cars on the main road can be heard interrupting the silence. There is little to no breeze.The faint beginnings of a sunrise are visible in the east behind the tree the birds often rest in during the afternoons. The sky is lighter already. The mourning dove coos, but I can not see her. The snow has melted since the storm four sunsets ago leaving ice and puddles in its place. The cars are here, but their tracks are gone. Where there is still snow along the edges of the yard it must be melting from the bottom up because there is a small gap where the snow and ground should meet.The wind must have been here because brown leaves from the maple in the southeast corner are scattered on the snowbank below the Rose of Sharon in the southwest corner. The Rose of Sharon looks about the same, but less of it is exposed. Thanks to the snow, the branches stand up straight mostly, but some point east, some west, some southeast, some north. None point directly south and this must be because of the wall built along the south end of the yard.The sunrise is now pink and purple, brighter and spreading higher and wider across the sky. The lights in the park are still on, but not visible across the snowbank in the yard. Looking to the northeast and southeast, the sunrise has spread, hugging the world.
A squirrel jumps up on the fence along the west side of the yard which borders the park. I say, "Good morning, Squirrel". He stops and wiggles his tail which is standing up straight and fluffy. He puts his hands, which must hold breakfast, to his mouth. "Have a good day, Squirrel" and he scampers away.
Snow still clings to the vines on the southeast corner of the north facing side of the south wall. The southeast corner of the north facing side of the south wall is clear but for the snow bank. Leaves have fallen from the maple and scattered. The moss is still green and damp and alive.
A bird caws. More birds caw back in the distance. Alone, wings flapping fast, a bird flies overhead in the direction of all the other birds who left him or her behind. The lone bird's arrival is met with a cacophony or rather a symphony of bird song.
With the rising of the sun more melting has begun. Drip, drop, drip, drop. The large chunks of ice, solid when I first came outside, now rest on a layer of water and are slick with water on top.
Drip, drop, drip, drop. Coo says the mourning dove over the sounds of more cars driving by.