early this morning

July 5, 2015

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I walk the path,
air moist, coccooned
in layers of voices

mist rising over the lake

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return

March 30, 2015

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with me, to that place
of beginnings

where once again, we can
trust and blossom

in answer

March 24, 2015

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to the warming air
voices of sandhills
whirl overhead, flying north
as the paths clear

along the way

March 22, 2015

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boundaries

March 21, 2015

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that seemed like
mountains, crumble

giving way
to the flow of time

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its been frozen,
clouded over

but yesterday you surfaced

light shining
in your eyes

hard gives way

March 18, 2015

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to soft, leaving
the cold ways
behind

ushering in

the time
of blossoms,
of sheltering nests

56 degrees at 3:30pm

March 12, 2015

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all around now

March 10, 2015

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I can hear them –
the whispers of
winter receeding

water on the move

reflecting
the waking world
of trees and sky

and so, I become

March 6, 2015

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late winter’s
thaw, trickling
into crevices,
absorbed by
the softening
ground. I listen
in silence to
the pulse
of the earth
and wait
for the signal
to press upward,
with fingertips
worn smooth,

the first tender shoots.