Riot of blackbirds
as the evening leans closer
like foliage, they are, 
screaming like black bunting
at the tops of trees
(insert copious white snow)

Brevia

And then he found himself in the
middle of a Schubert song,
and the woman was buxom and strong,
but not to be pleased with a

green ribbon as a gift;
and she heeded the huntsman's call,
leaving the jüngling appalled,
and an unfathomable rift;

and his end in the brook's course,
turning assuredly as the melody,
its current his pitiless hearse;
yet his song haunts us as a reverie.

June 25, 2002. Revised April 25, 2017.

Evidence seen and unseen

Come on crocus, you can do it. 



Forgotten seeds

dormant faith

overlooked belief

force and grace taken for granted

it just grows.