Titmouse. Memory shards

Злой ветер ледяной
подергал в лесу ветки:
с берёзы золотой
посыпались монетки.

Пичуги присмирели,
чернеет голый лес;
в холодные метели
не будет песен здесь.

Речушки на заре
размылось очертанье,
всё чаще в ноябре
слышно зимы дыханье.

Синичка озорная
встревожила дома,
к окошкам подлетая,
кричит: "Идёт зима!"

                осень 2020

P.S.:

It was winter, just like it is now.
A big hall was full of people.
On the scene were singing a big choir.
I was standing backstage, dreaming
to postpone the quick performance time,
but it seems it laughed, speeding up.
That big worry was unsound, right:
the warm public greeted the first singing.
It was strange to be on the one scene
with the band, touring the country.
Could the girl that moment have belief
that her "titmouse" will be flying
all around: from far USA
to far Israel. It brought me
the first medal on small wings one day,
as remembrance of the story...

                01.02.2026