Fragments of Spring

Brief poems of large and small things

I just have three small wisps of poetry for today: two haiku and four brief lines of free verse. But here they are.

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I walk down into the canyon
And it is crowded—
So full of the spirits of living things, 
And so many mesquite blossoms.

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This is a tiny tribute to the saguaro in our back garden. It flowered for the first time last year, which probably means it was about thirty-five years old at that point.

Waiting to flower,
waiting for midsummer sun,
young at forty years

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The quail cries, plaintive,
through the twilight; but I see
he runs merrily.

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