A Fence of Shadows

Sun burst in windows,

All the trees are standing still.

(A whisper of Spring?)

Through dirty windows
Bird forms float in the light.
They are still hungry.






















Generator's still;
A quiet piece of metal
Waiting for a storm.























Black silhouettes soar,
Swooping through the sky with ease.

(Where are they going?)
























Woodpecker beating
Unseen and persistently
On his wooden drum.























Snow pile and branches
Lie together like old friends,

Engage each other.























Between hose and statue
Myriad snow drops appear
In their ghost-white garb.
























A fence of shadows
Spanning neatly in the woods

Keeping out the sun.