Another Year


Another Year

The years dash by;

Seasons repeated over and over…

But each defined by its own personality

as unique as yours or mine.

Spring warmth is upon us once again.

Airy bamboo

Cloaks sunny windows;

Bright green

Peeking between twined twigs,

Scene outside seen betwixt.


Birds float

On early blue,

Progression measured

Branch after branch

By the grand oak

Spreading her arms

Above my head.



Shadows crisp, sharp outlines against

Bright sunshine on this last day of winter.

Spring gracing us with an early welcome appearance:

Cottonwood tufts drift willy-nilly

With breezes and gales

Spiced with fragrance of

Earthy pear blossoms,

Fresh mown grass

And water on thirsty black dirt.


18 thoughts on “Another Year

  1. This is beautiful! I can picture you sitting in your kitchen staring out to your back yard writing it.. Love you!

  2. ‘…thirsty black dirt…’Reminds me of blackland clay, crustover suitable only to the bare sole.

  3. Awesome! I especially thought the “shadows”, “sharp”, and “sunshine” created a nice “sh” sound, as if things were becoming more and more quiet as you read on, and it left a nice silence for the last few lines to hang in.

  4. Debi, you made me smile. I can almost feel the freshness and warmth of spring by reading your word, despite the difference of “seasons” I get here in the tropic. And true, each season, each year is unique. Love your beautiful rumination!

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