(Wherever She Is)

February 23, 2018

Sweeping across white

Birds race to the bird feeder;

Always a handout.

February 26, 2018

February gray,

February dim, cold moist

February morn.

Bright sunlight appears;

Labyrinth of bushes shines

As if they'd been lost.

On this shadowed lawn

Solitary piece of ice

Enjoys the sunshine.

Enclosed in shadows

Mikeyla enjoys the walk

(Wherever she is)

Perched on a tree top

Crow cries into the thin air.

Distant cries respond.

Now there's just stream rush;

All snow has left the forest;

Spring is coming.

Orange peel and glove

Displayed on the road's center:

Performance still art.

Fast driving auto

Races past and disappears

Leaving just its dust.