She nestles in a small cup of snow
She can walk on the top of powder
Her white feathered feet fall silently
Nothing with eyes will see her white

Foxes ruffle though her dreams
A keen black nose smells warmth
The shine of a tiny black eye blinks
Mouse pounce forgotten, here is
A bird that prefers not to fly

There are little dry berries on
Stark black twigs that barely throw shadow
It is enough if she is cautious, peremptory
Against the soft black paws padding near

She conserves her energy and heat
Hugs the ground and waits for the
White feathers to melt and reveal
The rock colors and brief stripes
Gray and brown, when she will blend
Again with the arctic color of Spring.