old and new

the snow is melting fast. the sap is running. dried leaves. swelling buds. young and old. dogs and cats. living together. mass hysteria.

scratching the itch

i see these two buds as bird feet down at the bottom end of some long, wading-bird stilt legs. one foot scratching the other. the weather that has brought these buds out of hibernation has been exactly the scratch we minnesotans needed for our long, winter itch.

linden buds

arbitrary fame

we still have a blanket of white snow. it’s the only time of year i would notice a weed stem as delicate and thin as this. against a white background, its lithe figure gets plucked from obscurity. any other time of year, it would be lost in the chaos of burgeoning youth. enjoy your fifteen minutes, you elegant thing.

weed stem in winter

pupil iris cornea

“what color are your eyes?” i have always found this a difficult question. my eyes are neither blue, nor gray, nor hazel. they are sort of grayish-blue-with specks of green. if i wear blue, they look blue. if i wear gray, they look gray. if i draped myself in dried red-pine needles . . . who knows?

pine needle wreath

quills upon the fretful porpentine

no caption today. it’s up to you to remember your shakespeare and tell me which play. better yet, which character?

fallen pine needles (norway pine?)