The End of Spring in Northwest Oregon

At dusk three crows cluster 
on a thin birch branch
swayed by warm Santa Ana winds.

A fourth crow clings 
to a gutter
looking for supper.

Tomorrow the lingering 
spring chill
will be a memory.

Crows will pant, 
soils will desiccate, 
flowers turn brown.

Tomorrow
we will be sprung 
into fire season.
 




the search

in the interim 
between conception 
and disintegration 
we move about
in familiar patterns 
ants following trails 
to crumbs
& drops of honey

we dodge abuse
buy comfort by the cupful 
stumble through relationships 
recover from mishaps
work to exhaustion anticipate 
vacation yell at the radio 
overwhelmed to know 
so much
of everybody's business

headlines shout 
catastrophe! disaster! 
still, we search for bliss 
in the rubble
while our continents 
shift
on molten rock
& our aqua blue homeland 
spins ceaselessly
in orbit
around a ball of fire 
itself dwarfed
by the magnitude 
and emptiness
of space

__________________________

Linda Jo Reinhard writes daily musings from her home in the Pacific Northwest. She handles more books than she reads, and tends a flock of blueberry bushes much coveted by birds and small children in the neighborhood.