March 19: The night before spring begins

No woodcocks twittering

in the frozen alders,

no pussy willow buds.

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March 18: Snowshine

Sun shining on snow--

I squint, dazzled by snowshine,

but I'm still cold.

March 17: Vulture

At this point
any sign of spring will do.
A vulture soaring? Yes.

March 16: Forced forsythia

Forced or freed?

Forsythia bough blooms

in the spring of our kitchen.

 

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March 15: In memory of Phoebe

Tonight's full moon

lights a candle on the snow

to honor her memory.

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March 14: Lo, on high, yon Bald Eagle!

The crows are pissed
but my spirits soar in blue skies
with that eagle.

Do you see the eagle waaaay up in the sky?

March 13: Life in a snow globe

We watched slides of Mexico

from inside

the shaken snow globe.

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March 12: Cloning extinct species

Sleet streaks my window.

Eyes closed, I try to 

imagine living mammoths.

I read today in the New York Times Magazine about a fascinating project to restore extinct animals. Something about trying to bring mammoths and Passenger Pigeons back into an overdeveloped world undergoing global warming troubles me. So many species still here simply require some care and conservation attention to not go extinct: endangered Piping Plovers being run off beaches, prairie chickens being closed out of habitat by cattle ranchers, white rhinos in Africa, right whales, elephants...

I know, I'm no fun for thinking this way. Where's my creative spirit? We killed them off, but we can bring them back! But this, to me, doesn't seem all that different from Monsanto's genetically engineered corn. 

March 11: Slowly the lawn is revealed

Slowly the dirty snowpack in the back yard is melting around the edges, a receding glacier. Slowly the edges of the lawn are revealed--as well as dozens of sticks and branches blown from the trees during this winter's several storms, sticking up out of the snow like black claws.

Branches reach out of snow
all over the lawn.
I dreamed zombies chased me.

March 11: Dabbling ducks

Oh, the painful illusion that spring might be coming soon. A day in the 40s highlighted by sunshine and birdsong, to be followed by another messy snowstorm tomorrow... A season on the cusp. The ducks, however, work with whatever they're given.

Before the next storm
ducks dabble in snowmelt
on the frozen lawn.

March 10: Returning

Black ducks fly
up the frozen river to roost.
Still light at six.