Hail, bright crescent, robed in storm, rain and cloud,
delayed like swift onrush of sweet Spring sap:
Starlings, soaked and weary, remain unbowed,
while red hawk, perching, waits to loose his trap.
White water sweeps banks clear of detritus,
both waterlogged sticks and carcass of deer.
Sunk cabbage sprouts, swamp’s stinking acanthus.
Chickadees revel at turn of the year.
Orion slinks west in late evening skies;
Hercules scrambles over horizon,
and vulture gives thanks for rabbit’s demise.
Owl greets new sun with angry derision:
long days mean fewer hours for hunting
goldfinch and field-mouse, blind mole and bunting.
This is really late, and for that, I’m sorry. Enjoy.