Cold today
but at least
the sun's
in play
Out in it
Wind talking
through mouthfuls of white pine
sweeping, swishing whispers
just enough to let the chimes
sing as bells
without bashing-- themselves
to dissonant trinkets
Music-muttering, free
Leafless shadows of the early spring
cold creeping 'cross
the yards toward noon
where they disappear
into a wood-chipper
What the hell is with my neighbors?
Why do people hate their trees?
Maybe 'cause they are not theirs?
Grown beyond them and their confines?
My tiny yard so feral
They probably hate mine too
But I belong to them
and mine belong to me
They curve around, protective
my home of wind and bird and sky
swirling
cream 'n coffee
one into another
like
Music sometimes
falling through itself into...
Sure--
know how to kill a morning
I let them live
trees and neighbors
...as my mind smears into afternoon