Ghosts of White Forsythia

Few flakes in the sky;
Lone crow sits on a bare branch.
The snow keeps falling.

Frosted bows of pine
Bend under the heavy snow.
Kids shout far away.












Here the stream is still;
Dark marks unfrozen water
In expanding ice.

Shriveled old brown spheres:
Ghosts of white forsythia
In dead of winter.

There's no sun, just white;
Dog barks hollowly nearby,
Then adds to silence.













Above frozen pee
Ancient sign fades on the pole,
Says "STE UNTING"

I wandered away
Following thoughts and fancies
And woke down the road.












Under frozen snow
Faint tinkling sound of water--
Stream is still running.