Bramble of branches--
A naked forest of twigs:
Forsythia bush.

Brown and beige on green:
Billy goat stands in the field
Munching on the grass.

Fence and bushes lean;
Helping each other to stand;
Will they ever fall?

Old rock on the hill
Looks out with many faces;
Now watches the road.

Wire in the bushes
Twisting among the branches;
Gray snake in brier.

Moss rock on the road
Facing the wrong direction.
Someone knocked it there.

Woman on the roof
Sweeping away the dead leaves;
It's not even spring.

The sunlit dirt road
Winds dappled into the woods.
Its end is unseen.