I get the coat from the entryway closet and glance through the window. A dozen robins, fluffed and overlarge with cold, graze the front yard. No worms today.
Outside again, fortified against the frigid wind, I see a flash of color in a tree barren of leaves. The first bluebird of the year. A male, a scout, searching for a summer home.
Robins and bluebirds. The great wheel turns and yields a promise. The brown and cold will become green and warm.
Bluebirds in a tree,
Robins grazing in the yard,
Harbingers of spring.
