Gray the morning road;
Gray, gray the thick cloud hanging;
Warm barn manure smell.

Bottom of the road
Lone blue wrapped newspaper lies.
Above, geese honking.







White turns into brown;
Snow blanket is retreating.
Where is it going?

Head bowed over snow
Stone saint watches winter.
Does it pray for spring?

Neatly on snow bank
Two large round turds have been placed
By a tidy dog.












Surviving winter
Two shelf fungi are now black--
Ghosts of autumn past.

Hidden in the woods
Staccato gun shots ring out--
Hollow sound of fear.











At the edge of snow
Rusty gizmo is revealed
Still doing nothing.

Near the gray snow bank
Crushed plastic bottle lies:
Winter's end debris.