Winter is Dead Wood

Bluebirds and snowflakes
Sporadically float across
Morning sky and earth.

 

And then they're all gone:
Little puffs of frozen white
As if they were not.


 

 

Shrill shouts from next door--
Waldorf school or clucking hens?
(They're all just playing.)

 

Careless stacks of grass
Billow over the back yard.
Nature has returned.

 

With greater frequency
Snow flakes dance across my sight
Going nowhere fast.

On this dim cold day
Beacon of red from the bush--
Triumph of holly!

Stump congregation
Disintegrating swiftly
Will be gone by Spring.

Winter is dead wood-
Heaped, stacked or just tumbled
From rotten trunk.