No leaves
yet.
Lots of room
for you,
black-capped
chickadee
in the
honeysuckle. 4-1-13
Closed this
morning,
all of
bloodroot’s little faces
point to
where they last saw
yesterday’s
sun. 4-3-13
One wood
poppy is joined
by another,
both hug the
cold ground. 4-3-13
Sailing,
vulture in
the air,
me in the
car.
We go,
weightless
on a
thought. 4-3-13
The dark
blue evening light
weighs
across us
rich with
warmth,
April’s
color. 4-9-13
The air.
It moves.
It’s warm.
It carries
chickadee’s voice. 4-9-13
Tomorrow
today’s dark
clustered silhouettes
will be
pink, crab apple’s own
spring
sneeze. 4-10-13
One rock
cress mustard,
two
columbine seedlings grace
the decaying
pot. 4-10-13
So close is
mourning dove,
I sit inside
the periphery
of his
hollow voice. 4-11-13
They don’t
want to let it go,
the
beautiful day, the birds.
Evening
song. 4-15-13
Red maple
flowers,
white pear
flowers
float on the
turning rust.
Spring
colors. 4-15-13
Crab apple
wholly pink
admired by
bees
and me. 4-17-13
Side by side
wood poppy’s
yellow faces
radiate with
perfect pitch. 4-20-13
Left over
from winter,
inkberry’s
crystal light rises
unsheltered
under opening
maple
umbrellas. 4-24-13
Elaeagnus angustifolia
The morning
wind blew the words
right out of
my mind.
Empty flower
bells quiver. 4-25-13
