We’re All Trying to Figure it Out

We’re All Trying to Figure it Out
 
I’ve heard that animals have prescience.
Then why are the hummingbirds and red-winged blackbirds still
here?
Don’t they know about the blizzard...?
 
They smell the walking wall advancing from the west.
The pressure falls.
They feel the moisture in the air as it breathes into their bones.
The sky is dense. 
 
Relentless oyster gauze falls in folds.
Thousands of thin sweet layers pile three feet high.
Baklava and deep silence--
but not to eat--
layers mean desperation.
 
All the food forms are covered and smoothed. 
The Junco’s black eyes glitter.
Her white tail feathers peep. 
She seeks a roost, but --
will she have enough energy to last through the night?
 
Meanwhile, a farmer looks over his accounts while the woodstove pipes along,
steam rises from the pan.
Will he have enough to buy seed for next year and what about that new tractor?
 
Price rise, fall of demand--
Creased brow.
He’s turning the numbers..
 
We’re all trying to figure it out.