By late April most wolf
goat and pussy willows
have become fluffy green
golden billows twice or thrice
their newborn cub
kid and kitten size
all whiskers and pollen dust
radiant upon lustrous green
bronze or copper stems
they stand along the roadside
the Widow Wyile wanders
her quotidian amble
to view the sights in the valley
below and further out in the basin 

up close she watches
the unfolding of plants
the coursing of ridge waters
while way out and down there
the larger landscape stretches
brown grey yellow green dun
the winding river sometimes
brimming sometimes trickling
or somewhere in between
just as the mudflats lie hidden
or uncovered beneath the ever
shifting skies and sea 

by late April the flies are abuzz
and leaves are poised in all manner
of initial emergence and the land awakens
ingreenmentally dotted
by spring’s flower folk
bright faces  of coltsfoot
johnny-jump-ups   crocus
scilla      narcissus     violet
among last year’s fallen leaves
and still straight or kinked spent stems
while birds of many feathers
sweetly chirrup and coo
flitting swiftly about their
nesting business
serenading the greening
imperceptibly begun and well
along its lively way