Friday, February 18, 2011
To Follow the Wind
Pale sunlight dripping
Joins the melting icicles;
Dissolve drop by drop.
Warm breeze shakes tree limbs;
The rooster's crowing again;
Three crows cross the sky.
Snow banks are brown;
Earth's catching up with winter;
And now there is mud.
Warm wind up the road;
Stream's no longer blocked with snow;
First bird in the bush.
Next to the mailbox
Small red flag lies in the snow.
Who will pick it up?
Bird cries in the woods--
My thoughts slip out of this place
Into obsession.
Dead brown leaves are back
Released from winter's bondage
To follow the wind.
Around the tree's base
Thick rings of receding snow--
The seasons circle.
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