green bud

I just can't help myself from season.

green bud
.
yesterday the mist
on last white patches
thinning by the light
breath of each new quick
come forth bright show
green bud and
bloom
.

spring forth

.
season pleased with its launch
sky pressing gray hills and hiding cottonwood
mist touching my heart before the pussy willows soft
touch it here and magic
soul knows
gold and reds and many shades of earth
still hidden by the thatch of tan-bleached grass
and snow patched a few more days or hours
on the north side hiding
sun loves too
o spring
green forth with joy
trickle drip
and rich
.

Song of Season

The snow is melting again. Oh, the anticipation...

Song of Season

When the air warms my arms and legs
Instead of calories consumed and conserved
By sweater's padding
Sun shines for buds pressing
Their vortices of dance
Into an aura of life
To know the song of season:
Oh, Spring!
And the birds.

Spring Haiku: Out of Place

.
smug in your sunscreen
bare legs with iPod on skates
Minnesota watches and waits
.

The Steed of Turning

Went to the woods last summer
After a morning of light.
(Fog in the meadow.
Mist on a patch of lavender blooms.
With yellow buttercups in their sheen.)
Sat beneath a tree in the sun
One whose broad leaves did fall
And will re-bud for the call
Of the force this Spring:
About to mount its steed and ride
More anxious than the parade allows
In most season’s turning.
Was a breeze in that sacred space.
And soon the wind.

Marshmallows

.
Know the heart by a smile.
Follow a dream.

Do what you love most this time.
Talk to your dog with raw meat.

I shoveled snow last week
for me and three neighbors.

Tomorrow marshmallows
at the fireplace.

It wasn’t always like this,
But I’m learning.