You may need this for Friday.

Sing, Lady Moon, of black mud beneath snow,
and shadows of blossoms on apple trees,
and green moss on elms. Old oaks start to show
shoots of leaves to come. Nights no longer freeze,
and woodpeckers flit from poplar to ash,
stalking small insect prey beneath gray bark.
Turkey vultures remove all winter trash,
and barn owls hoot in dimness before dark.
Sing, bright goddess, of chickadees and swifts,
of goldfinches and sparrows chittering,
and daffodils breaking through the last drifts.
Ah! Dogwoods are fuzzy and shimmering
and outlines of trees against twilight skies
grow thick with promise of lengthening days!

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