the feel-good muscle-flex

of seasonal chores & yardwork —

tree-trimming, leaf-raking

and stick-gathering,

with the occasional burst of green

poking up through the soil,

further proof that spring

is most certainly on its way

the unexpected arrival

of a waylaid birthday card,

banged up & battered,

postmarked three weeks prior ~

lost, somehow,

in the post office shuffle

curtains drawn back

in winter’s bluster,

prior to even

a hint of dawn,

rare and intermittent

proof of life

the fragrance

of my husband’s coffee

as he tosses the grounds

into the trash

thrift shopping

with the neighbor down the street

blue, her favorite color

seeping dreams

pepper a raisin sky

*

Common Nighthawk

awaits the dawn

*

plum-tinged brushstrokes

erase the darkness