The snow settles
on the bourgeoning
honeysuckle leaves
around our
kitchen door
It looks like
fake blossom
Our cat is stationed
under the nesting birds
twittering in the tree
at the bottom
of the garden
Shivering in his
thick fur coat
And I determinedly
slip, slip, slip
across the road
for my
morning paper
Trying out my
new sandals
Maureen Pickford
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/pretending-39/
