Brightening sky – everything a bright gray through light snow.

Gray squirrels move like living punctuation marks in the snow. A comma suddenly becomes an exclamation point
and three semicolons go flying up a tree.

There are no letters at all until the crows arrive. First, two groups of four I’ve seen before, and then a few outsiders, three or four. Composing short poems as they peck for corn, they are swept up all at once then put back down again for more. But soon they’re gone for good, leaving only a few stray apostrophes on a blank page.