during the ice storm

how strange
to find a songbird
covered in ice

how strange
of an image
to be here

how strange
for my toes
to feel frozen
while I write

how strange
to wander
in memory

how strange
to imagine
the bird’s song
echoing in a bucket

how strange
for the woods
to be so soaked

how strange
to imagine
riflery practice
at the old still

how strange
to notice it
had a missing eye

how strange
to notice that
I have two eyes

how strange
that a rifle
issues a report

how strange that
guns and birds
make song