My day

Chickadee sits on treetop
And cheers the world
With its simple song.
No harbinger of spring
It gives way
To other birds
Returning with the sun
Winging north on a softer breeze.

The winter's rage that was so fierce
Collapses before the gentle touch of spring.
The rain comes to sweep away its frozen cousins
The snowdrift, the icy patch.
They blend together
And sink into the thirsty ground.

I sit behind the shielding glass of sun porch
And let the sun warm me as it slides down the sky
Sinking below the waving line of a wet horizon
Marked by ocean swells.
The sliver of a pale moon hangs there
Marking the night.