haystacks of snow
      leaking and cinder-speckled,
dot the spring landscape.

While we may mourn,
     Death is walking toward the moon,
           having a lovely chat.

Hyacinth in the vase -
sweet scent of spring:
scraping mud from my boots. 

Tea steam, curling;
snow swirls off the Peaks
in pristine morning light.

Juniper berries
  twinkling in sun-lit frost -
  vanishing so soon. 

Spellbound by October stars:
     night's crisp air
     changed by the skunk...passing through.

Cider-scented breeze,
rustling the scattered leaves,
    sneaks past my sweater.