The Old Tree

apple blossoms

You’re not very pretty

Said little girl to tree

Looking at the hardened buds

That’s all that she could see.

They surveyed one another

In the warm spring air.

The tree old and grizzled

While the girl was splendid and fair.

There is magic yet within me

The ancient wood explained

All I need is the warming sun

And the chilly April rain.

The little girl scoffed and left

Not believing what the tree said

To the girl, the tree didn’t resemble life

The bare branches to her looked dead.

But when she returned in three days’ time

A fantastical sight did she behold

The tree in wondrous splendor

It left her speechless to behold

For each of the buds on the tree had burst

Into blossoms rosy and white

Its secret revealed for all to see

She was awestruck at the sight

Resting her head on the trunk

She silently apologized

The tree in response told her instead

Let this lesson make you wise.

Do not judge by appearance alone

You never know what’s inside

Even the ugliest of forms

Have beauty trapped inside.

And while this is old adage true

The reverse can also be

Beauty can hide the ugliness

It’s all in the way you see.

The Cardinal Ballet

The colors of this late winter day

Are muted.

Ashy snow-threatening sky

White birch trees stand tall

Planted in the dirty snow.

Even the pine trees exude

A verdant boredom.

Then a flash of red sparks

Through the air.

Then a second

And a third.

Three wondrously colored

Cardinals alight on the

Cold.

I watch them flit from

Tree to tree.

Their delicate winged ballet

Enthralling me.

Reminding me that

Spring is not far away.

The Turkey Truce

“I feel like I’m in a slo-mo version of The Birds.” I found myself thinking this afternoon, while I was outside with my dog. To the left of me, half of the flock of turkeys was moving around the perimeter of my property towards the back. I watched them moving through the trees, their clumsy-looking bodies moving with surprising slow grace. I watched them for a minute or two and then turned my attention back to my dog, who was playing “rockey.” Rockey is his favorite winter sport where he pushes a rock across the crusty snow and then chases and pounces on it. It’s pretty funny to watch. Anyway, my attention on him was stolen by movement out of the corner of my eye. The other half of the turkey flock was crossing the property to the right of me. My mind drifted to an image of the two halves of the flock meeting in the yard of my neighbor behind me. The flock and I have an uneasy truce. Even though he’s getting better, my dog still tends to chase them when they are in my yard. The central part of the day, they have learned to avoid my backyard. But, evidence of their early morning visits is seen in the ghostly trails of dinosaur-like tracks in the snow that crisscross my entire yard. It’s a weirdly beautiful co-existence we’ve created.

The Ice-Covered Yard

My dog stands rooted to the

Spot where he stands.

I have called him

But in his mind

He can’t obey.

His usually verdant yard

Is now covered

In splotchy grey ice.

Some primal instinct

Is speaking to him.

Telling him not to go across.

The hard frozen surface.

I watch him and feel

His mind working.

Looking right and left

He finally finds

His way back to me

And jumps up,

Pleased with himself

And this reunion.