Forsythia's out--
Little green buds have blossomed
Into yellow clouds.
There's no birdseed left;
Still, the little bugger tries--
Hope springs eternal.
Wind chime shadows move;
Follow the lead of the chimes--
Make a shadow sound.
Olivia licks
Her majestic bovine butt
With her giant tongue.
Sunlight up the road
Rolling so swiftly towards me
Will soon touch my nose.
Forsythia bloom
Hangs like a bell in the sun
Ringing silently.
My three roadside friends
Ask for my recent haiku
And then they're in one.
Green and thriving plant
Rooted in the roadside stream
Knows its water source.
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