Old women sitting
In warm April sun... the cold
Stays long in old bones
...
The sun starts his march
Northward; the land becomes quick
As the new year stirs.
...
The long-barreled Colt
Reaches out and shakes my hand.
'Ah... We've met before.'
...
Cold grey bitter days
Slowly give place to soft airs;
The world whispers: Spring!
...
Long ribbons of geese...
The air fills with wild music
Ancient, but made new.
...
On the first warm day
Children rush about, hatless,
Laughing. 'Ears! ' they shout.
...
Chill rains, absent sun,
Snow in the middle of May...
Spring, Midwestern style.
...
The old land is washed
By new showers; soon will come
April's first green shoots.
...
Now the sap rises.
Cold nights, warm days, and... a tap
Bring maple sugar.
...
Spring Haiku 6
Old women sitting
In warm April sun... the cold
Stays long in old bones.