Poem

As I was taking my dog, Max, for a walk this morning, I thought that Mother Nature didn't get the message that it's supposed to be Spring! I could have used a pair of mittens. I saw fathers, (yes, dads) standing on the streets, waiting for the school bus to pick up their precious offspring, arms crossed with sweat shirts on and the kids were hopping up and down, trying to keep warm. So, in keeping with the weather, I wanted to share this poem, which I wrote for my mother in March, 2006, for her birthday:

Breathing the starched crisp morning air,

a bird's song sings me up into the face of the aurora blue sky,

and I see the beginning of another season is here.

Minature buds shyly show themselves

safely captured on the limbsof winter's strip tease bare trees,

calling out the end of this bitter birth cycle.

Rejoice,

they seem to say,

soon the sun will warm us into life, again.

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The piece above I call OZ, and when you look closely in the upper right window, you can see my dog, Max. Just like Toto, wanting to find a way home.