Etched by the Fairies

Bird house is empty;
Ornament every winter;
But birds will return.












Gray, below freezing;
Distant wail of fire engines;
Tension in the air.








Green leaves are frosted;
Soft blue light has descended.
Now where is the snow?

Streamlet is frozen
On way to rushing steam.
(In cold, speed is all.)

How long will they last,
These brown desiccated balls
To conjure the spring?












When I think of you
The woods and road disappear.
You devil, angel.

On top of the trees
Scattering of leaves hang on.
For what are they waiting?

A frosted forest:
Window of abandoned house,
Etched by the fairies.