A Little Warmth

by Erin Wilson

February has cracked
one of its bright cold days
over my window.

Now the snow banks
are a theatre stage
and I must decide
about my costume.

The winter birds
have their say,
their clear liquid music
against the glass.

It is silent,

then Arvo Pärt’s
Cantus in Memoriam
Benjamin Britten,

then silent again,

as I drive the two and a half hours
through the cold
to fry eggs for you.

— from Juniper Volume 4, Issue 2