The waiting time

The waiting time
is heavy
the clouds
the bare trees
the remains of snow
the sky fortelling
more snow
to come
We lean our shoulders
against the gray
pushing
the sisphyean weight
every step
threatening
winter's
return

Shine

I was so eager

to meet you

Lady Sun

I left my hat

I forgot my gloves

I tossed aside

my work

and worry

my only 

hurry

to stand in your light

and breathe

There and gone

Flakes fall fast
blanketing bud
and branch
Obscuring even cloud
in a blurry flurry
Gone
by afternoon
when
overhead
geese call to each other
on their way
northwest

Early Birds

The morning

is lightened

by the busy conversation

and medley

of birdsong

each call an individual composition

in a incongruously complementary chorus

A sparrow sings 

in the bare branches

a whistle, a trill

the climax almost a screech

Sing

repeat

sing

repeat

sing, sing, sing

Matthew 6: 26-27

Move/Be still

I keep returning

to you

Lady Sun

unmovable

ever-moving

Your sky skirt unfurled

Your bright heights

unbound

free

Calm

Spring

still seems distant

as the wind moans

in my ears

and the empty milkweed pods

rattle

But the air is clean

and the sky is blue

and the water is waiting

with her newly free song

If I close my eyes

this worried world

fades

and the sun seeps in

to where I'm coldest

March in between

We claim
to be
too jaded
to be fooled
by this March melt
this spring-not-yet
However
the child
inside
sees puddles
and bare ground
and rushes
to rejoice
in 
the momentarily
mild