Two Brief Poems and One Short Poem about Spring



New grass, baby leaves.

Same old prairie,

Same old trees.



Whither the wind?

Does it blow around the world

And back again?



Winter Kill                                                                   for Jan

I took my shears to prune

what winter had killed,

but cut too deep,

lopped the graft,

only root stock remained.

I thought I had killed

all blooms to be,

all hope of flowering.

What grew then,

was something new,

blushing white

as angel wings

and fragrant,

as they must be.