Technically, it is spring. The sun shines brightly . . . but its rays are without warmth. The grass is showing . . . but lawns stand brittle and brown. Trees wave gently in the morning breeze . . . but their limbs look thin and naked without leaves.
Shadows stretch out long.
Thin sheets of ice over mud puddles
break up like shards of glass.
Patches of alders stand useless,
with no leaves to offer shelter and
their choicest bark stripped away by hungry moose.