A crooked pine tree
 
atop the winter mountain
 
holds a scolding crow.

 
 
 

Windy winter day—
 
from the scarecrow’s tattered hat,
 
a cobweb dangles.

 
 
 

No-trespassing signs—
 
the winter rain ignores them,
 
going where it will.

 
 
 

first griefs of winter—
 
a death without a goodbye
 
and the bitter wind

 
 
 

In its blossoming
 
the plum tree babbles secrets
 
it kept all winter.

 

 
 
 

Last day of winter—
 
already dandelions
 
bloom in sidewalk cracks.

 
 
 

End-of-winter dream:
 
I keep waiting for a bus
 
that never shows up.

 
 
 

reading a poem
 
to a Facebook audience—
 
winter solitude

 
 
 

Winter evening rain—
 
a blackbird keeps on flying,
 
bent on getting home.

 
 
 

Yellow butterfly,
 
why do you flit in and out
 
of my winter dreams?