Time for gloves again;
Sun and clouds play hide and seek;
The wind ignores both.

How plain the field is:
Rolling brown grass and the wind
With gray sky above.

Sun breaks through the clouds
Bringing the hope of spring birth.
It's Easter Sunday.

Puddles have frozen;
Forest stands at winter's door.
Snow piles still clutter.

The whispering wind
Repeats its frozen message:
"Know! Know! Know! I'm here!"

Solitary flake
Floats aimlessly to the ground.
Now there are others.

Two puffing joggers
Strain as they run up the hill.
Do you call that fun?

"Ahead Stop Bus School"
The sign is turned upside down;
Is the bus also?

Cluster of pale turds
Lie together off the road.
They've survived winter.

Now the sun is out
Transforming winter to spring
In just an instant.

Snow flake in the sun
Lands on the page and then melts--
Very short life span.

Pup twirls in window
His yips muffled by the glass.
Is he nuts or what?