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.
This year was the summer that wasn’t.
Circumstances made the months pass us unnoticed
It was a Southern hemisphere season here.
A winter landscape when summer was due.
Our world’s axis tilted from the sun.
A sunny April day in late January.
A warming strong wind the past days
erased the remaining snow, dried the ground.
I took tea outside and read new poems.
Buds watching me chuckled over my joy.
that clings to the branch tightly closed,
layered in fine colors for the Spring –
unashamed she will show Her yellow petticoats
to me and dances with the wind.
Perfume upon me from an immodest touch.
The solstice came, the days lengthen and
winter blows colder winds, but tree man,
a gentle soul, not a horror legend,
holds on to his brown autumn coat,
guarding the creek, watching me grow old.