Fading

Winter's last moon, waning, casts dim light, and the shadow brocade that creeps across the lawn is vague. I'd lost track of the moon's phase during the cloudy nights, and was a bit surprised to see its gibbous form rising as late as it did. It travels with Jupiter tonight, through a sky now without clouds. The chorus of frogs reminds me that few nights this chilly remain to the season. The equinox draws near, and then April will bring longer, brighter evenings and milder airs. I linger outdoors, savoring the chill that is soon to be gone, until gray light pales the shadows away, Jupiter vanishes, and the moon becomes a ghost. Soon, the memory of winter will be as pale.


( Sunday Verse )

Springish

This is the week when the mulberry tree, though still leafless, hides the afternoon sun at exactly the right hour so that I can use the computer without closing the drapes to prevent the glare through the window from blinding me. Thus, I'm able to look out at the pleasant scene of fluffy white clouds and fading camellias and lots of birds hopping about on the lawn, and it keeps distracting me from the monitor. I guess every blessing is a curse in disguise. But it won't be long before the mulberry is all foliage again and will block both the afternoon sun and most of the view. Then I'll be able to concentrate, at least as long as nobody brings any shiny objects into the room.

Tomorrow is the equinox, but the weather report forecasts colder temperatures and rain. The poor plants are getting so confused. Those which flowered in the warm days of February have mostly had their blossoms destroyed by icy March nights, and a few of them which held back some of their buds are now attempting to bloom again. If I were them, I wouldn't trust this month at all. I'd wait until May to bloom.