The chickadee wins the first prize –
as it visits its favorite haunts,
fleeting from tree to branch and branch to tree
noting the changes in the season,
perhaps nothing much,
maybe the hopeful bareness
on the maple tree:
a thousand bursting buds,
a thousand leaves that’ll bloom
in two weeks’ time.
Beyond the yard,
at the edge of the woods,
a bright winter-spring sun tickles the air.
And below on the mish-mash earth:
worms, worms, and worms
that strain to escape the chilly bits of broken ice.