Following the Fickle Sun

White bone and pine cones
Lie discarded on the road;
Sun breaks through the clouds.








Across the brown field
Two motionless white geese sit.
(Wait! Just what are they?)

Shadows come and go
Following the fickle sun;
Wind hums in my ear.








Pine cone on the fence
Joins its wooden relatives--
Temporary rest.

Snow is gone from woods
Revealing old leaves, tree stumps
And random garbage.

Silent, lights flashing
Ambulance races round bend--
Quiet urgency.

Second ambulance;
Still no fanfare for the ill;
Just a stern swiftness.

Horizontal tree
Supported by its neighbor
Has roots in the rock.

The moss covered lawn
Plays again with the shadows--
Second day of Spring.