Crimson Over Frosted Clover.


Crimson Over Frosted Clover.



I saw a


perched in a

shivering huddle 
on a drab limb
of a bare

 tree today.

Naked to

the chill wind,
he stood out

like the

sore thumb
of mother nature

striving to return
our frozen

world to bliss...

by hitchhiking to

a warmer clime? 

Perhaps he

was a prelude

a dab from Gods

brush spilt

as he prepared 

the palette
of Springs color

not yet arrived.....
or maybe

he was

just a

passing fancy
in the early

frost of April.

Fluffing his

scarlet feathers
in a puffy ball

 of despair
over seeds

not yet prolific

and juicy worms

 still hibernating

deep in the

frozen earth,

sustenance enough

to fill the

empty knot
of his

hollow gullet.


Then he was

gone in

a red blur

vanishing into 

the whiteout

of a blizzard

gone amok.




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