The
snow of winter has melted away,
but spring has not arrived and the air is still crisp.
The woods are brown and bare;
no hint of green.
A hawk soars over the trees scanning the ground.
Three deer wander up the valley by the creek;
two are fawns, nibbling at something
that I can’t see.
A white-eared squirrel stuffs dry leaves in its mouth,
carries them up the trunk of a hollow tree,
and disappears inside to make a nest.
At dusk, a young raccoon ambles by,
not minding that I watch.
*
This blog is combining with my blog that helps people as they journey through grief, as well as help their friends and family understand what they can do and say to help. http://widowersgrief.blogspot.com
You can also check my full author website at http://markliebenow.com
Or catch me on Facebook, Instagram (MarkYosemite), or Twitter (MarkLiebenow2).
but spring has not arrived and the air is still crisp.
The woods are brown and bare;
no hint of green.
A hawk soars over the trees scanning the ground.
Three deer wander up the valley by the creek;
two are fawns, nibbling at something
that I can’t see.
A white-eared squirrel stuffs dry leaves in its mouth,
carries them up the trunk of a hollow tree,
and disappears inside to make a nest.
At dusk, a young raccoon ambles by,
not minding that I watch.
*
This blog is combining with my blog that helps people as they journey through grief, as well as help their friends and family understand what they can do and say to help. http://widowersgrief.blogspot.com
You can also check my full author website at http://markliebenow.com
Or catch me on Facebook, Instagram (MarkYosemite), or Twitter (MarkLiebenow2).
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