Palette of Farewell

Tricolored blackbird

Flashes its vivid colors

So nonchalantly. 

Sun chases the clouds;

The clouds return the favor--

Celestial see-saw.

The cows are mooing;

Such loud sounds from gentle beasts;

Hunger has volume.

Rough wind up the road

Blows the clouds hither and yon;

Chorus of wind chimes.

Forsythia blooms

Scattered among the dead leaves:

Palette of farewell.

First budding lilacs;

Dash of violet in the air.

(Will its scent follow?)

Next to the old stump

Ethereal blue cluster

Sheds its own faint light.

Calls from the forest--

Birds, animals or human?

Ambiguity.

Is it really true?

Do the old wives have it right?

Is the grass greener?