It’s the Pheasant

Treading along the gravel fringe
Between snowbank and pavement,
His red-and-gold-ringed neck like a halo,
That transforms the day’s errands
Over treacherous iced road, impatience
With laundromat washers and dryers
To complete their spins, the cold hands
On the gas pump, items on grocery store shelves
Costing more than you need them to

Into something like a sudden sunbeam:
A gushing gratitude for life.

– Debbie Trantow