Signs of Spring

Not related to the poem, other than a visual treasure on a recent walk in the woods.
Not related to the poem, other than a visual treasure on a recent walk in the woods.

Small Signs

I walk in smoky sadness,
needing small signs.

Underbellies overhead,
long necks pointing north.
Flaps and honks rain on me.

Forsythia reeds
with bright popcorn blossoms
swish and hula
in a minty breeze.

At a muddy edge of pond
two dogs, tongues rolled out,
bow and lap. Water halos
arc and spread like radio waves.

Honey hope goldens my pulse.

Now, who am I to doubt
that I, thirsty too,
could bow and drink,
flower or fly,
and make a difference.

Published by

Suzanne Dudley

Writer, Coach, Actor... mom, and wrangler of many dogs. Pugslie, is but one of a small herd.

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