poem about early spring
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The storm covered much of the country- a last cry of clinging winter. Snow lighted on half-bloomed buds and winds shook the branches of the cherry tree until soft petals and snowflakes danced together toward the ground.
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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,
Bringing Mae Flowers 