Up at 4:30, and in the moonlight I saw a single young deer in the yard,
eating the remnants of our tomato plants.

Another light snow – a little less than an inch. I’m waiting for
something more.

By two in the afternoon we get it: a hard, cold wind –
wind like surf crashing through the pines,
tossing snow like spindrift from their spines.

But then it’s gone again, and the feeling stays. Still waiting.