I nearly feel frustrated about them

It's a diverse part. A couple of still stand

at consideration like sentries at the closures

of their carports, however more lean

askance as though they'd quite recently gotten a blow

to the head, and in actuality they've gotten

many, all winter, from planes of wet snow

shooting off the bended, decreased cutting edge

of the furrow. Some look shaky, positioned

at weirdo edges or drooping sadly

on dubiously posting posts. One box

bows steeply forward, as though in disfavor, its entryway

lolling sideways, unhinged. Others are imprinted,

battered, streaked with rust, bound in channel tape,

mismatched with clothesline or bungee ropes.

A couple of lie abashed in remainders of the very snow

that thumped them from their roosts.

Another is wedged in the criminal of a tree

like an aviary, its post smashed close-by.

I nearly feel frustrated about them, exhausted

by the long winter, topsy turvy, not knowing

what hit them, endeavoring to hold themselves

together, as they sit tight for news from spring.