Giving way . . .

praying mantis in leaves

Black gives way
to grey
gives way
to green
gives way to . . .

Somewhere in our neighborhood
high above gently steaming rooftops,
mists-waifs dance and sway
straining to reach
the sun-touched tips of ageless trees.

Black gives way
to grey
gives way
to green
gives way to . . .

Rustling sounds of morning air
tentative stretches and pin-feather fluffing,
shy chirps still at night sentry’s cry
Rise! Shine! Begone night’s despair!
sly humor on the wing of owl.

Black gives way
to grey
gives way
to green
gives way to . . .

Shadows scurry in shame
creep down siding, slide between leaves
sun rouses slumbering buds
sets nectar flowing, calls all to feast
welcomes bee, hummingbird, stalking beasts.

Black gives way
to grey
gives way
to green
gives way to . . .

Spring Has Sprung

And just how do I know when that blessed thing called spring

has finally sprung?

Simple!

Cat-hair drifting --

not unlike flower petals

shaken from trees by a last-minute

hiss of winter’s disbelief

Mother Nature is having her way!

Cat-hair, I say!

A wee bit here

and a wee bit there,

chased by the vacuum cleaner

with a roar and sucking air.

Or, consider the pollen --

gold flecks scattering hither and yon

to gently land on mist-covered surface

baked into permanence

and staking their claim

to impetuously

seed the next year’s spring.

More?

Cast your disbelieving eyes on

my swollen nose,

reddened

by constant application

of the softest Kleenex known to mankind.

Ah! In the final analysis,

spring’s promise is always heralded

by allergy-laden bliss.

I see you, too, are a believer.