mud season

the black dog shaking
a shower off

where they felled it

the paper mill chimney’s last cloud

a bluebird’s warble

between the sirens serenity

the pileated woodpecker nailing it

these groundless blues

bear cubs climbing into the sky

full moon

almost touching  the whippoorwill

an oak tree’s  newest mouth

A linked-verse sequence.

There’s no denying the appeal of dead trees: they look more human.