mid-day poem, February 10, 2016


Walk along the creeks

And you will see the trees awakening

Even now

The sycamore and birch

Soundlessly siphon living water

Through root, trunk and branch

Drawn by light.


In only days, the oak and hickory

On hill and mountain will bud

And the tiny, furry dots

At the end of every twig

Will give a red tinge to the mountainsides

Morning and evening.


Copyright 2016


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