Morning: maple blossom time

No colors rim his world today the grey of mist of fog resists the sun's display and frogs

Morning: maple blossom time

No colors rim his world today
the grey of mist, of fog,
resists the sun's display
and frogs that scrambled up the bank
jump in again.
The black lab looks their way.
It's morning —
and the mist resists dull echoes
from the call of passing cars.
The stars have gone to bed,
a place he'd rather be.
Above his head the maple blossoms
shed red casings of their flowers
and it's Spring again,
arriving each day earlier
not with the sun but with the fog,
the frogs, the mist, the crimson tips
of maple blossoms.

© Kåre Enga [164.5] .25mars.2007

Original in "Maple blossom time. Creating disability."