Driving home from work, I watch the darkening sky and the trees along the streets bending in the wind. Big drops of rain begin to splatter against my windshield until suddenly, my entire car is being bombarded. As the moaning wind picks up, the downpour increases and I adjust my windshield wipers accordingly. Nearing my neighborhood, I glimpse a foretoken of spring.
behind their mother
young quail scurry in a row. . .
March winds scatter rain
Soon I am pulling into my driveway, wondering vaguely where the baby quail were bound for and relieved to be escaping the onslaught of cold wind-tossed rain. My spirit has been lifted by the sighting of the quail family, for I know better days are ahead. . .
A few weeks pass, and I find myself becoming excited as I always do after April has arrived. I begin noticing the various plants and trees of my small city, in particular, the burgeoning buds of my own front yard pear tree, and then at last it happens; I awake one fine morning to my favorite augur of the season:
outside my window
myriads of white blossoms. . .
the trill of birds
For the Spring Haibun Poetry Contest of Debbie Guzzi