dogtrax

A pond, transient to Spring, sings itself to life: tadpoles to peepers

A child among ferns, a forest stretched forever in a map of green

On Mulberry Street, I remember the silk worms devouring leaves

Oh, little green buds, you wake too soon – this winter still has miles to go

for Algot

An inflorescence, in mathematical patterns; a catkin's spiked coat

Constellation night; the stars as stories, lit up against the deep dark

Prints left in the snow - the hare goes where it will go - to where, I don't know

Straddling seasons like a kid on a see-saw; the Spring equinox

A spring-time snow squall drops white on green, as flowers fold in on themselves

A mad rush at dusk, the swallows never stop to sing with dinner, flying