The earth is warm to  day; I can feel it in my bones  
As I have  the  front door open of our cottage and let the soft spring  like 
air  
Breeze  through along the long leaf heart  pine walls and  floor 
to sweep out the cobwebs of  winter. 
My old Airedale, who  is blind,  
Pricks  her nose up to the breeze from our porch   
And drinks it in like  it was an elixir. 
We head for the pond  together, and amble down the   
Grass laden path like  peas and ham  
Like a guide stick she  taps her head off my leg step 
And heads off like a  brail master  
Letting the smells and  sounds of her old haunt  
Guide her through the  bee- loud glade.   
The sun dazzles its  brilliance off the water and blinds us, 
Inviting  us into its distant marshy environs like  some radiant and holy 
crystal 
Only nature  spirits see  
A chorus of  birds serenade the  air, fish feed the surface ;   
I disturb a dragon fly  as we free the canoe from its winter sleep   
And glide its sleek silver body across  the rippled water  with my age  old 
pup-riding  helm; 
We  take out  off across the open  water, surprise a flock  of ducks ,then 
portage   
the  inlet  searching its  grassy  delta  for signs of  spring. 
For  size  our  pond is  not that big, about 3 acres in all, but  it allows 
you to  
navigate bass beds  made of reed and stick and to get up close the footprints 
 
of our animal friends  whose nocturnal haunts appear to be many . .  
There are the deer of  course, big and small and there are a variety of 
beaver 
Otter, Possum  and Raccoon tracks to all  make  sense of. 
Everyone  seems  to make it to the waters edge   
Then veer off into a maze of tiny  crossroads that trample the grass and 
meander into the pine and sycamore  forest.to our back and sides   .. 
We are in the month of  Pieces now  with a full sun Aries fastly approaching  
 
This week a  quarter moon passes the  night in the shape of an upturned  horn 
and by its weak and feeble light ,we  can imagine  the many animals that  
come and go to this secluded spot   
We can see what they  eat has changed over  from   
Winter rye grass  to one of  new green shoots of  horsetail, 
Bamboo, berries  and the aquatic salads of water lily and iris.  
Oh ...The yard needs  raking I know, and the beds need to be cleaned out  
This I haven't  forgotten.... but. I've got other plans.  
Big plans, Great  plans, Plans that baffle the ordinary mind, 
Plans that let go for just one day the  busyness of life's cycle  
of cell phone and  schedule   
Plans that compliment  the imagination and give comfort to  the soul  
Plans that let the  mind wonder and see the universe as it really is  
As the porch radio  plays some Mozart for  the  Viola  
I dig the  warm black wet earth of my compost pile 
And watch  the worms curl and wiggle in the sun of my spade   
. One by one I  introduce them to an old soup can in my wicker creel,   
Then close the hatch  along with a sandwich and a thermos of Cha (green tea)  
 
And step back into the  daffodil strewn path and  backtrack  to  the  pond ;  
Stretching out  my winter legs with a pole over my shoulder   
and some verse  crumpled in a beat up paperback stuffed in my back pocket  . 
My quest is  simple; a rhrendevous with my favorite tree, 
contemplate the still water,   
cast a line ,   
and let the March sun  warm my face   
Then if the Gods  of Spring smile,  
let em bite     Py   

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