winter’s end

a fox sparrow serenades
the bare dirt

tentacles of ice
beside the spring

drifting snow

with the wind’s attention  to detail

the refrigerator open  to more snow

a mourning cloak’s  black velvet

old silk threads  new caterpillars  of snow

the pond’s island
of ice

a timberdoodle’s high  fluttery whistle

a dog in the valley
adds its voice

The feeling that something is about to happen, out here where nothing ever happens…

Strolling down the Allegheny Front on an old rail bed. A haibun.

ice falling from the trees  over here