improvised

[Dave]

Improvised

snow bends the light into rainbows
until this fledgling year takes shape
on branches flush with buds.
Fresh faced squirrals dig memories
from hollows and building begins
among the cupped arms. Breath
hangs still on crystals but not for long.
 

[Gyppo]

Dave,

Very nice seasonal poem.

You had me at fledgling year.  I would never have thought to describe a year with that word, but, having seen it, it's perfect.

Enjoyed the fresh-faced squirrels too.  They've been particularly busy this last week, and I saw a very small one, still learning just how far he can jump.

Gyppo