Resurrection, Please!

April the cruelest?
Feelings stir and awaken
And it's only March.

Can there be sorrow
In the warm breezes of Spring
And faint smell of grass?










Forsythia buds
Seem to swell in the sunshine.
A breeze on the road.











The only snow patch
Is under solar panel;
The whole field is brown.

A cross in the sky
Made by the passing jet streams.
Resurrection please.

St. Francis is free;
My still shadow on the road;
A new bird song rings.


Not winter, not Spring;
The woods are completely brown;
Only Evergreens.

I hear new bird songs
Missing from the whole winter.
(Now I miss them, too).