Heat of a March sun
   in my mountain town -
cool breeze as I pedal.

After the blizzard -
wind disperses snow
       from pines to my face.

Marsh sounds -
   blackbirds and mallards
      embraced by the white of a blizzard

dirt under fingernails -
   among the carrot row
      two hands touch

Two Great Blues circle,
their wings beat in unison,
through a ray of sun.

Mud to my knees:
A shattered chateau window
reflects a sickle moon.

After the train:
   the rails still softly sing
in the winter air.