dogtrax

Peepers still asleep hidden in the bogs and ponds; a froggy slumber

How patient we are to wait, to wonder, to hope: the first buds of Spring

Covered feet plow through the remains of a winter too stubborn to leave

Dirty politics; the ones slinging mud like words want us all in muck

That little sparrow zipping through the trees and brush; a familiar friend

February sun on pavement, the thaw of ice now well underway

A composition: the music of a sunrise on a quiet day

Egg of idea, hatched in a nest, on paper; expensive as heck

Divots and canyons – street formations left behind from storms, days ago

for Algot

Rushing by, hurry - the kids are in a flurry of a wild escape