Creeks sing to wake the frogs.
New leaves whisper, waking the wind.
Old, crooked trees have their own
music, a quiet unfurling of
wandering woodland notes.
Raspberry canes taunt birds
with fruit not even flowered.
Earth tones of burnished brown are
dotted with last year’s leaves
and hobbled by winter-white grasses.
The see-saw of spring thaw
has tilted toward warm.
Black clouds spin this way.
The first pitter-patter of fat drops
beats a wildwood refrain until
all the world is embraced,
interlaced with new water,
washed clean and sung into spring.
Copyright 2016 Brenda Davis Harsham
Notes: Happy National Poetry Month! For those of you on twitter, I’ve been tweeting a haiku a day, inspired by Donna Smith’s collection of license plates (#imagepoems). I won’t be putting those on my blog. My twitter handle is @BrendaDHarsham. Those count toward the April A to Z Blogging Challenge. Today is J-Day (we take Sundays off). I’m also writing a poem a day for NaPoWriMo.
I hope you’re feeling inspired. Have a great week! Warmly, Brenda