Dusk settles in on this last week of winter.

Light lingers a few more minutes.

The day’s news, grim and foreboding,

weighs on our minds, breaks our hearts.

Night’s darkness helps to mask our pain,

but still we question our responsibility

in these times. Is there nothing we can do?

Too heavy.  Too much.

We say a prayer and slip into sleep.

Soon spring will come, perhaps new peace.

Nature does not contemplate our human endeavors,

but reacts to changes in environment, no matter the cause.

Hope carries us through to dawn

with ice and snow near gone.

We long for bulbs to awaken and inspire us

to live in peace and beauty once again.

I hear their loud, rattling, bugle calls

filtering down from high in the sky.

The sharp light of the sun blinds me

as I search for a glimpse of them.

Then I see them reeling northward

in large swirling flocks – swoops.

I smile cheerfully watching their seeming

confusion on their springtime journey.

Their calls encourage each other

to pay attention and follow.

This looks like confusion or

joyful play to us down below.

I love the neighboring geese calling and

flying in formation over my house.

But, the wild springtime visitation of

Sand-hill Cranes thrills my soul.

I encourage them on their flyway to

places like Tomahawk,, Wisconsin

where they often visit, replenishing themselves

and perhaps, making their summer plans.