The sweet sense of spring,
Spicy grass, sun and cock's crow
In February.

Everything seems brown:
Trees, leaves and even the stream.
Wait! An evergreen.

Music from the shack
Floats gently onto the road.
Carpenter at work.

The stream bed is dry,
Ice patches recall its past.
When will water flow?

They are bedraggled:
Christmas bells on the mail box.
Why don't they just leave?

My two old friends wait
Huddled on a patch of sun.
Inseparable Labs.

Snow is in the air
But the woods and road are bare.
Wind's whispers foretell.

Today's a beige day;
Brown shades cover everything.
Even green's subdued.

Sparkling on brown leaves
Preternatural green flash:
Mountain Dew bottle.