to John J. Burns

The sun trails me
through the naked small twigs of long trees,
Shades fix their flexible bodies
to white tailings of the tired snow,
Waterfall begins a quiet spring song.

A bird chirps lonely,
supporting the sky up with its little head,
black berries swing midst the silent whistle of the wind,
the smell of distant smoke soars.

Oh this long road to a spring!
My soul freezes up in a colorless world.

Twisted trunks of a frozen forest
reach for the Sun,

And Sun shines, dazzling ...