Slow, a car slips past--
Whooshing, and then it's not there;
Transient nature shows.
Last day of winter,
But snow doesn't seem to know,
Lying on the ground.
Peeling from the trees
Snow makes ready to collapse
In face of the sun.
Spring is really here:
Mabel's outside and barking.
(She's forgotten why).
Slowly descending,
Long white line in the blue sky,
Without a murmur.
Both sides of the road
Hidden deep in the forest,
Mourning doves whimper.
Perched on a snow bank
Frozen and vividly brown:
A fresh pile of dog shit.
Dark brown and waiting,
Buds at the end of branches
Holding their treasures.
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