The birds knew it just before I did.

They had been singing and flying tree to tree

following me on my morning walk.

The air was very still.

It was quiet except for the serenade of the birds…and squirrels.

Then silence.

They all landed on trees or scurried into bushes.

I stopped.

Then we were all blasted with the north wind.

This is how winter arrives in north Texas.

If I could color this wind

it would be a mix of white white white

and fresh sea blue.

It would be a swirl of these colors

rolling across the sky

leaving a shivering trail.

Nothing moves after it passes.

The grass, still green,

is shocked.

Not a blade bends.

This is when I bundle up and stay outside.

My neighbors know my blue ankle length Arctic coat

With boots, ski pants, hat, sweater and gloves.

I’m a pudgy figure waddling around our empty streets.

I belong outside.

I always have.

Mostly I like it warm,

just wearing shorts and a t-shirt.

But I’ve found a way to be in cold weather.

A kind of winter solidarity with the animals

who have no choice

other than to seek shelter and warmth

snuggled under leaves

and in bushes and nests.

I talk to them as I walk around.

I don’t see them

but I know they are there.

They know I’ll keep pouring water over the ice in the bird bath

and saucers I’ve set out for them.

I imagine them peering out at me.

I think they are thanking me.

I know I am them.