Balmy spring morning
And it's still February;
Tomorrow summer?
Squirrel becomes the tree--
His gray fur at the gray bark
Meld to each other.
Green moss on my lawn
Has overtaken the grass---
Mother Nature wins.
He's sunning himself
Standing against the red barn--
Unconscious contrast.
Small circles of ice
Surround the base of the tree--
A frigid rooting.
Snow banks are still left
As streams sparkle in sunlight.
(What surprises left?)
Hunched in the back seat
Young man glooms past in the car
Holding his story.
Small circles of ice
Sun's rays illuminate veins--
Structure but no life.
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