Seasonal
Against its will, the sun was
banished from
claiming creation.
Dark brown bench,
entombed in winter,
folded into slumber.
Grass lived its best life, until—
hairpin cracks to the root
inch it to its death.
Jack Frost.
Knitted hats bobbing—
We’re late to class!
Morning was in mourning, but the sun,
never stronger,
opened the sky.
Persistent knocking
quivers the air—Hear it?
Rejuvenated
sun—
tap, tap, tapping.
Unashamed to shove its shoulder through the doorway,
vacating its prison behind the clouds. It pushes
winter away.
X-ray heat extracts clouds from its path,
yet coats will be
zipped to our throats tomorrow.
What Animals Do
A murder of crows
murder your ears.
A gaggle of geese
grab your bread crumbs.
A clowder of cats
circle your feet.
A tower of giraffes
taste the treetops.
A gang of elk
gloat in the valley.
A skulk of foxes
sulk near the den.
A romp of otters
relax in the river.
A watch of nightingales
wrangle the midnight air.
An assemblage of people
avoid each other.