Any minute now
Blue gray clouds will open up
And Spring rain will fall.
Fence, trees and stacked logs--
The world overflows with wood--
Buckets and branches.
The stream sounds hollow,
As if waiting for the sky
To break and fill it.
Tapping in the woods
Could be a shy woodpecker
Wanting quiet space.
The stone saint has turned;
Now his back is to the road.
What does it all mean?
Few white flakes drift by
Latecomers to the party
Who have lost their way.
A million years old,
Once covered by deep oceans
Rock sits in the woods.
Near abandoned house
Green plants grow between the cracks
Of the untrod slate.
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