Still a patch of snow;
The air is warm and scented.
The sun is hidden.

Soon the rain will fall;
The sky is pregnant and gray.
The warm air is still.

The pink shuttered house;
In windows old lace doilies.
Faded fairyland.

A wrecked "For Sale" sign
Sits on a filthy snow mound.
Both on their way out.

Small blotch on the road;
The body still and crimson.
The first dead red eft.

Small yellow splashes;
They peek from under dead leaves.
First dandelions.

Ahead something waves;
I perk up. Who could it be?
Oh, it's just that flag.

The stream flows gently;
Birds call in the hollow air.
Woodpecker hammers.