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Too Cold a Morning to Ask a Dumb Question
Kenneth David White

I am not used to these winter mornings. But here we are.
Water frozen solid, not to be pecked, pried, or prayed back to liquid again, not
by these small birds: juncos by the dozen but still no strength in numbers,
not the white-crowned sparrows, canyon towhees, the lone flicker,
not even the arrogant scrub jay (yes, you are lovely, that unnatural
blue, but still no reason for such cocky behavior). That’s my

job and today it takes a hammer. Bright shards of ice explode everywhere
and everywhere includes between a bare foot and slipper. Damn it!
and worse. I ask, mostly joking, what have you done for me
lately? backing away to let them crowd the water, scattered
dry worms and seed. Taking turns by type on the oak’s bare branches, singing
as they’ve sung since the beginning, before me or my hammer, to start another day.

—
After earning his Master’s in Creative Writing in the late 1970s, Kenneth David White spent the last 4 decades running humane societies and wildlife rehabilitation organizations. During those years, his energy shifted to writing a weekly animal-themed column which was published in Huffington Post, the online version of The San Francisco Chronicle, and several print newspapers. Now semi-retired, he has recently moved to New Mexico (a dream since first visiting in 1974) and has returned to writing (and seeking homes for) his poetry.

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Have you read these poems:
Leaving Mendocino by Prartho Sereno
Note From a Lost Pencil by Bill Simmons

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