Blustery wind
smells like fresh buds
yellow green
they dislodge in gusts
silently fall
under my right foot
to grow
or disappear to Below
****
Spring rain
cold rain
drops on the dogwood flower
springs back like
space between heartbeats
silence waiting for sound
***
Have you heard the sound
the bud opening in spring
has anyone known that noise
thousands of eruptions
it must be a cacophony
or a symphony
of the trees
too soft for the human ear
the noise of flesh
rips open
so that cells gasping and grabbing
for the sunlight can emerge
do they kick, cry, or scream?
perhaps, ask the chickadee what it sees
when no one else is around
the sagacious bee 