Ladder for Faeries

Darkness in morning;
It certainly looks like rain.
(At least it's not snow).

 

Bright forsythia
Burst back after the brief snow.
(Is it really Spring?)

Brisk wind at the door
Shakes me into the outside.
Woods are murmuring.

 

Rolling gray and white;
Thick clouds obscure the sunlight.
Small patches of blue.

 

A sprinkling of buds
Shower from thin branches.
Another tree's time.

Long, thin branches bend
Over the dark dead tree stump:
A ghostly bower.

 

 Lights flash and trucks hum--
Town of Woodstock is busy
Preparing for Spring.

Parallel branches
Stretching across from the tree--
Ladder for faeries.