improvisation is the heart of my craft
a gift given before I was born

I do not know where words will go
but its my wand in a world of negation

Living a niche, an unusual stream,
I meet with lovers, singing our songs.

Now that winter is over,
For months Jack Frost will be gone:        
Spring is now awakening,
Green is on the plants and lawn.

Yellow daffodils landscape,
The towns and the countryside:
Forsythia blossoming
Is a sight that's hard to hide.    

The cold days will get fewer,
And the warm days will get more:
The apple trees will blossom,
Just like years they have before.

There's no way I want to freeze,
Warm months I treasure the most:
Give me days when the sun shines,
So in the sun I can toast.

First frost
riming the landscape
A white dawn
Announced by the crow's harsh call
The waning moon hanging
In a cloudless sky
As the rising sun's rays
Twinkle on the frosted fields.