spring – tinywords

spring is coming one door of the deli is open

Street vendors selling flowers for other men’s wives

Five minutes before the alarm — birdsong, birdsong.

day at the park picnic blankets blanketed with cherry blossoms

spring scent of nothing burning

first thaw pink petals in the elevator

sprouting grasses — deleting the contacts i never call

walking barefoot in the mud a young woman carries the world on her head

row houses wear tinfoiled windows blind to spring

green tractor plowing drags over black furrows a lace scarf of gulls

On a bed of leaves, a deer skeleton picked clean, save one furry hoof.

covered with blossoms a business card floats on the pond

in between the notes heartbeats so loud

snatched by the wind, my check zips past the daffodils — I almost let it go

the hem of my dress too wet for the wind

the lie i almost tell bruised ginger

Clouds building outside Heralding a thunderstorm My cube grows smaller

Hidden by the fog, mockingbirds and wrens sing maps outlining the trees.

empty tree– except one nest

cherry blossoms drifting down mission street three pink hookers

gleam of cattails and a high half moon

haiga

flash of yellow a butterfly headbutts me in my work break

an old woman sweeps the walk of cherry blossoms children’s laughter

early spring hike— brushing the winter dust off her bones

We walk under a scorching sun next to the river. … (haibun continues)

each butterfly carrying spring (haiga, click through for image)

cherry blossoms I fold my resume into a crane (haiga)

overnight the leafing returns to this dying oak beneath my hand such desire for spring