The air smells so sweet;
The breeze brings a promise of Spring;
A jogger trots by.

Still water in stream;
There's not even a ripple.
Soon the flood will come.

The monochrome woods;
Thousand brown variations,
Green splashed against it.

The shadows appear
As the sun breaks through gray clouds
And then hides its face.

First sun, then clouds, then...
Each phase seems everlasting.
Now is forever.

A long, lone snow patch
Lies in the shade of the woods.
It just won't give up.

Clusters of white buds
Bob and weave in the soft breeze.
Now I know it's Spring.

Wire around the tree
Rusty encircling the trunk.
Tree has swallowed it.

Dead bird in forest
Lies stiff and gray on the ground.
Oh! It's just some wood.