Not Winter, Not Spring

The air grows brighter;
Snow is suffused with sun's rays;
Fleeting shadows form.

Through the square window
I peer at the outside world--
Each morning different.

My rhododendrons
Have sunk deep beneath the snow;
Now they're popping up.

Where are the shadows?
They're hiding behind the clouds
On this gray morning.

The stream is awake;
Water ripples dark and deep--
A square of blackness.

 

 

 

 

Unread newspapers
Lie, blue wrapped on the driveway;
Ignored or unseen.

Plane's hum and crow's cry
Add life to this dim morning
With their distant sounds.

It's in between time--
Not winter, not spring,
But gray transition.

 

 

 

 

 Shadows have been freed;
Clouds have released the shadows
This late afternoon.