snow covered hills
The transition from winter to spring,
from iced lakes to white capped waves
like surrender flags, giving in
to the warm south wind.

From snow covered hills to a farmer
discing in the dirt sending up
clouds of dust and gulls, forgotten
stories suddenly pitched into the air.

From gnarled, cold hand like trees
to new green buds and helicopter seeds.
From the silence of snow to
frog choruses the land breathes,
sighs and breathes again.

Red Wing Blackbirds on dead cattails
whirring out a warning and
bees finding the first dandelions.
Biplanes, fresh out of hibernation
grace the skies with noise and smoke.

And the silent snow covered hills,
empty cathedrals of space and mind
are all but forgotten as turkeys
peck and geese squawk overhead.

The quiet of winter, a nirvana of
blissful meditation is swallowed by
motorcycles and tractors and speedboats.

One comment

  1. Butch, I often try to respond to these pieces, but I get all tangled up with passwords and user names.

    This was another fine poem.

    I saw those two biplanes, also, as they passed over Northfield!

    Liked by 1 person

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