Forsythia daze
Outside my kitchen window
Blasts into my house.
New birds arriving--
Chubby, hungry, aggressive;
Don't like each other.
Bright morning sunshine
Glows through the dead leaves lying
With no place to go.
Strange runic patterns
Etched on the telephone pole
By morning shadows.
Far hollow echoes,
Drum beats from a distant tree;
Woodpecker pecking.
Deceptive brown leaf
Hanging from a slender stem--
Is it alive? Dead?
Across the blue sky
A long clear white line evolves
Disintegrating.
Taking on colors,
These bare trees of winter's time
Assume Spring garments.
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