Snow flakes fall again;
White specks, under a gray sky.
Return of winter.
Without the sunshine
The day is much more forlorn.
Has Springtime vanished?
Still the rooster crows,
Even without morning sun.
Hope springs eternal.
Trees and reflections
Are hard to tell apart;
Streams are slow today.
From a passing car
A hand reaches out to wave;
Snow flakes keep falling.
Still the snow recedes;
Moss, the new face of the woods
With mirrored puddles.
Beyond fence and trees
Pond is clear, and free of ice.
A loon sang here once.
Now the flakes have stopped;
Sky's beginning to brighten;
I'm walking back home.
Doors and windows sealed
All over abandoned shed;
Wait! Hole in the roof.
No one lives here
In the old ramshackle house.
Spring buds grow here first.
From road to the hill
There is barely a snow patch.
St. Francis rises.
One legged mail box
Has finally keeled over.
Will it rise again?
White specks, under a gray sky.
Return of winter.
Without the sunshine
The day is much more forlorn.
Has Springtime vanished?
Still the rooster crows,
Even without morning sun.
Hope springs eternal.
Trees and reflections
Are hard to tell apart;
Streams are slow today.
From a passing car
A hand reaches out to wave;
Snow flakes keep falling.
Still the snow recedes;
Moss, the new face of the woods
With mirrored puddles.
Beyond fence and trees
Pond is clear, and free of ice.
A loon sang here once.
Now the flakes have stopped;
Sky's beginning to brighten;
I'm walking back home.
Doors and windows sealed
All over abandoned shed;
Wait! Hole in the roof.
No one lives here
In the old ramshackle house.
Spring buds grow here first.
From road to the hill
There is barely a snow patch.
St. Francis rises.
One legged mail box
Has finally keeled over.
Will it rise again?
No comments:
Post a Comment