What better poems are writ
by this world than
that of the changing seasons
scrawled across mountainsides
fall’s reddened alpine
sugar coated with the beginnings
of winter?


spring creeping up
from the sea
hot breath on mountain

stellar jays
and magpies
crisp blacks blues
and whites
resist the pull of so
much brown earth

see them dive for prey
and return to misty
sky like
so much
spring rain falling
and upon reaching
the earth
leaping back in
joyful imitation
of life-cycle

Reach out and touch someone....

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