Small birds chirp lightly;
Others swoop to melting snow;
Plane hums overhead.

Wind blows up the road
Carrying the cries of geese.
It seems much too soon.

Snow is receding
Exposing layers of brown;
Spring is still waiting.








The woods uncover,
Exposing soggy dead leaves
And hopeful green moss

Leaning green lawn chair
Resting back against a tree,
There all winter long.

Large brand new mailbox
Sits strangely among old ones;
New kid on the block.








Old stump friends are back
Still discussing the beer can
Thrust into their midst.

By the shade of trees
Ice clings by the running stream,
Its season's ending.

White spot in the air
Joined by others floating by;
There still will be snow.