The refusal of Spring
having finally burst forth
short shoots
and window dressing
along branches
dropping petals
giving way to thunderstorms
bound
to fall tonight.
Am I
the only witness
to this,
other than the
worrisome whitetails
wigging out
all along the mountainside?
Or the birds, as they
erupt in
flight, synchronized
patterns
across the skies
fleeing
to their final roosting place.
Abreast
of that something
which cannot
yet be seen
only, for the time
being
felt.
No comments:
Post a Comment