spring snow . . .
the sound of the bottom
of someone’s bowl

forsythia
her ponytail
skipping along

Spring Sunday
the campus tourguide
walks backwards

cloister garden
a bumblebee enters
the flower’s cup

bog rosemary — 
first their humming
then the bees

bright wind
the bronze geese
green with spring

hilltop — 
my kite tugs and tugs
at childhood memories

spring morning — 
the hand of a student who
may know the answer

first rosebuds
a slight bulge
in the squirrel’s belly

still wet
after crossing
spring wind