When trees in morning March winds sway

it’s different from November’s gray,

those heavy pessimistic skies

which dormancy or death belie.

In March, with Spring’s rebirth in sight,

the treetops stretch toward Life, they fight

off stiffness, Winter’s coat they shed.

From deep below their sap is led

to flow, to course.  How they rejoice –

with dancing limbs their find their voice.

They won’t sleep now – they’re wide awake.

Their thirst for growth with light they’ll slake.

And I, who sit beneath and watch,

as one who might a fever catch,

am caught myself and share their thrill –

Life finds its way, and always will.

At top: Butterfly on dandelions. Wikipedia photo.

The birds are singing.  Weeks too soon.

For them, is climate change a boon?

Won’t they need bugs or seeds to eat?

The ecosystems once were neat

and dovetailed nicely, well-designed.

But now look, Nature is inclined 

toward unpredictability.

» Continue Reading.

Primal Pleasure

It wasn’t really on the list,

but why not take, I thought, an hour or so

to shift some things in the garage.

It was a good excuse to start an outdoor fire, 

to warm my hands between each shifting shift.

 Except, I spent more time beside the fire pit

than working hard on the garage.

» Continue Reading.