I stand knee-deep in snow
where doves perch on plates
piled with suet and seeds.
They peck open husks,
freckling the snow with shells.
Saint Francis' grotto stands
beside me, the statue warm
in the house until Spring.
A green eyed beast crouches
frozen in the statue's place.
Cat jaws quiver to birds
squabbling one pounce away
hunger's face framed in stone
the snow near the grotto
littered with feathers, blood, bone.
Copyright 2000, Scott Speck-Lesh
Scott Speck-Lesh writes both poetry and fiction when
not working as a software systems engineer with the
Hubble Space Telescope project. He resides near
Switched-on Gutenberg/Vol. 4, No. 2