Bouquet to the Past

Aquarius one;
A shifting of the sunlight?
Promises of Spring.

The crisp morning sun
Sharpens the darkness and light,
Etching hollowness.












"For Sale" sign is gone;
House is sold and people moved.
Small cataclysms.

Small snow ridge shadows
Form a wall along the road,
Stretching endlessly.

Sparkles in the snow
Behind my neighbor's sad face
Speaking his sorrows.

The woods are mottled;
Dark lines lie across the snow.
Smell of gasoline.









Against the slate rock
A sprig of dead brown leaves lie--
Bouquet to the past.

Ghost seed pods still hang,
Their whiteness matched by the snow.
Are they waiting for Spring?