Not Haiku

I don't know about joy, but

fresh air,

green hills with yellow poppies,

turkeys milling by the creek --

I must be close.

Written Last Week

Each Spring
I put away my sweaters.
But it's not warm yet.

---

Thankfully

that rose bush resurrects

every Spring.

---

Lupine grows in the spot

where there's no concrete.

It dies by Summer.

---
Spring by the creek--
a turkey & I 

walk the same path.

Actually Also Written Today!

The corpse of a hawk--
I am sorrier than if
it were a turkey.