The snow settles
on the bourgeoning
honeysuckle leaves
around our
kitchen door

It looks like
fake blossom

Our cat is stationed
under the nesting birds
twittering in the tree
at the bottom
of the garden

Shivering in his
thick fur coat

And I determinedly
slip, slip, slip
across the road
for my
morning paper

Trying out my
new sandals

Maureen Pickford

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/pretending-39/