The pond is shrinking again, snow gone,

flitting and flirting from now on,

melted into once it was there, now it’s gone.

Skis put away for the future,

shovels are stowaways,

with the brisk charade of winter passing by

till it changes its mind now and again

but Spring is settling the score you can’t ignore

with trees on board flushed with gold 

turning into a stately green

in this vast garden of awakening Eden.     

Don’ t be dispirited in the slack of February,

Nature’s staging a come back, impinging on everything.

It even talks back with the wind’s filtering roar

releasing the final leaves hanging on for dear life, 

with rains which dip and dive finally driving us inside

with huffs, puffs, and even tweets reviving,

and marvelous floral treats.

Little swimming and winged things

creating beauty wherever they touch down,

while frogs and such, surface again, tuning up

doing their mating dance in April’s sunshine. 

The Great Blue Heron takes up its stance,

when fish sally forth, petrified  by chance

while the plainly ordained scales of the Sunnies 

shine with pure undulating lightning strikes.  

A swift hovers and dives, then recovers

through the mist rising from the pond,

lifting the eye from the silver enchantment 

rising like a chimney flue from earth to sky

while God remains the Underwriter of all we desire, 

and has us dead-to-rights.