A Long Transition

Not a speck of snow;
Still there is but little green--
A long transition.


Stella waits for food
But she must go to the vet.
I feel very mean.


Over the old barn
Birch tree is framed by the pine
As if they're dancing.


Birds are chirping loud;
Robin flies to the high branch,
Then even higher.


The fence is leaning--
A wooden wave in the sun;
Three balls on the lawn.


Bright morning sunlight;
Dark holes seem even darker;
Soft moss even softer.


A single goose honk:
I lift my eyes to the sky--
"V" against the blue.

A lone reflector
Shines like an orange bee hive;
(But there are no bees).