Calendar autumn. Morning winter. Frost on windshields.
But in this room, spring hydrangea blooms
from a greenhouse or a somewhere spring.
Unthinking, it doesn’t feel out of season,
misplaced in time and space. I do.
In a cold spring, just one day.
Hot blue sky sun has me thinking
summer with the leaves, bees and ants.
But I need to bring plants inside
tonight and turn on wintertime heat again.
The birds sense winter coming this morning.
Sparrows flutter, fight and search the eaves
for hiding places from the next season.
Blue jays, cardinals, chickadees, all anxiously feeding,
reminding me of things still left undone.