Bringing Mae Flowers

I walk down empty streets under a gray sky.

A crow caws overheard- answered by its murder’s calls.

The brisk east wind blasts across the lake

racing toward the mountains.

It pushes back my black hood,

and tangles my long hair.

My nose reddens with the cold’s sting.

New buds grow on the bare trees,

but it feels more like autumn than it does spring.