Could it be spring?

by A. Gagliardi

Sidewalk ice-flows change their course as the days drip by.
Snow banks ease into dirt-tainted mountain ranges.
Concave snow peaks parade craggy terrains on their hems.

Could it be spring ?

Ice ledges suspend themselves
over cement gutters
lurking in street shadows.

Winter struggles through March before grudgingly relenting.
Spring slithers silently into April.

Skinny sunshine milks the days’ minutes away.
Squirrels hungrily dig for newly sprouted bulbs.
Curious buds stretch their yearning toward a weary sky.

Could it be spring?

Cars travel incognito,
wearing street clothes
of road residue and salt lick.

Winter struggles through March before relenting.
Spring slithers silently into April.

Our snow fellow begins sturdily enough.
Our snow fellow begins sturdily enough. | Source

Spring Time Snow Fellow

The last remnants of a snow man fade daily in the Spring sunlight.
The last remnants of a snow man fade daily in the Spring sunlight. | Source

Spring Is A Bird

By A. Gagliardi

Spring is a white bird

who’s elusive song

plays hide & seek

among the branches

of bush & tree

Spring is a whisper

on the wind that

you can almost under-

stand that pulls our yearning

heart to listen

Spring is a game of tag

with the morning dawn

a peek-a-boo with dusk

the hope of a thousand plus

seconds of illumination overtaking the dark

We must be still and offer

our palms open and supplicant

full of suet and seeds

full of belief that the bird

will come

-that spring is already here

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