Relaxed in Decline

It must be Spring now;
I can take out my Nikon;
Icicles drip, drip.

A piece of flotsam
Separated from its source,
Tossed upon the road.










Trees seem very still;
Clouds moving slowly above
In a pale blue sky.












Small grove of dead limbs,
Lying scattered on the ground
Relaxed in decline.









Small rock on a rock--
A piece of abstract sculpture
Avoided by snow.









Flat boulders in woods
Rise above surroundings.
How did they get there?










Pine cone in the bush;
Another one on the ground.
Pine cones get around.











Brown and spider like
Thin stalks rise from the snow.
Just delicate husks.