A dusting of snow blankets
weathered limbs, bare
beneath barren skies,
as I shudder from the cold.
Late March sunshine slants
through clouds, my upturned
face warmed beneath a sea
of pink blossoms.
Flitting from branch to branch
sparrows peck ripened
fruit, oblivious
to tourists shuffling past.
An October gust buffets
half empty trees
and scatters bronze leaves
down the gravel path.
