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Beneath wintry graves soils engage spidery root-bulbs.

Hesitant blades pierce the mulch.

March rains dampen tentative greens like children forgetting their lines.

Weeks pass.

Spiked blades pattern gardens like players on chessboards.

Hard nubs stretch like infants flailing rubbery limbs.


April suns toast the nubs, urging them to spring from earth’s darkness.

Flickers of color expand and soften the petals.


Tulips have returned! We give thanks!




Saturated earth stretches, turns cartwheels. Gold crocuses strut their stuff.

Green-fire sizzles beneath stubbled lawns.

Thorny lilac buds split their seams in laughter.

Velvety moss creeps along creek bottoms.

Worrisome ants zoom across patios.

Swollen-breasted robins preen in the sun.

Bird-trills jostle pre-dawn stillness.

Winds nudge recalcitrant leaves from pin oaks.

March sun toasts bare arms on swings and jungle jims.

Strollers gentle their little ones.


Around us and within us, greening plummets ahead. There’s no stopping Her.




Winterlight is like a calico stalking the bands of darkness. Winterlight is like a city pigeon hovering over cathedral spires. Winterlight is like a solitary cardinal preening atop a plank fence.

Winterlight is like the sapphire mantel of a nurturing mother. Winterlight is like the warming blanket toasting a surgery patient. Winterlight is like brittle chocolate smarting the palate.

Winterlight is like a warrior gentling over ice-strewn riverbanks. Winterlight is like a grandfather’s joshing with a gummy-faced toddler. Winterlight is like the hesitant first kiss of lovers.

Its strange beauty inflames spirit …




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