March 2018

The forsythia is out…

song thrush sings the Song of Songs
from the burning bush.



Under the trees, late but welcome…

Bright constellations
twinkling out in dark places:
wood anemones.



Spring delayed, still icy and cold, late blooming if at all, and worse, they say, to come…

Finally blooming,
daffodils gamble on Spring,
Ignoring forecasts.



Fuaimeanna san tost…

Béicíl chianda,
bainteach le tafann spraiúil.
Éann faoileán.




Indigo shadows
pile up around the edges.
Snow and a full moon.