rebuilding the nest

another spring house phoebe

frog pond

taking the sky  for a ride

the trees must store these shadows
somewhere deep

just as the sun comes out  a killdeer’s cry

from the ridgetop pines
a long sigh

a timberdoodle’s high  fluttery whistle

a dog in the valley
adds its voice

ice falling from the trees  over here

whichever way the nuthatch turns

a ladder rattling
atop a van

on an empty stomach
trying not to stare

You can see farther this time of year because there’s so much less to see.

ridgetop wind
speaking in the voice
of a raven