She feels January in her joints,
her bones a built-in bellwether
to barometric bounces. To forget, she points
to a metal birdhouse out the window, red/yellow/
blue, with last summer’s sticks stick-
ing out—it’s true!—from a surprised tin mouth. O!
Like my mother’s delight in watching aerial tricks
as tiny bodies winged in and out.
The H | O | M | E welcome, now draped in snow.
Mom rubs knuckles and knees, to take
her mind from her aches, her pleas
for summer to get here, quick! I compare
how our friends feathered a once-hard abode,
layering comfort leaf by leaf, soft as an easy chair.
Ann Kathryn Kelly lives and writes in New Hampshire’s Seacoast region. She’s an editor with Barren Magazine, a columnist with WOW! Women on Writing, and she works in the technology sector. Ann leads writing workshops for a non-profit that offers therapeutic arts programming to people living with brain injury. Her essays have appeared in a number of literary journals. https://annkkelly.com/