I step down the two stone steps outside my home

My eyes wince from the bright yet cloudy sky

I walk to the only place I know

Music plays, yet not with instruments

The birds sing and chatter their melodies

As the frozen pond before me melts slowly into spring

The trees sway

The frogs croak

My face is red and cherry from the cold

I try to ignore the cars and their engines

Though few and far between, they interrupt the song

The smell of campfire and ashes fill the air

And the birds with orange bellies laugh at me