Against the sun-wall of air <br />the birds disguise themselves <br />as their own shadows, <br />before settling invisibly among the leaves. <br />A medley of songs pours from the tree screen. <br />Was that blink of blue a blue-jay? <br />That flash of red a cardinal? <br />Nothing lasts long enough <br />in April to be certain. <br /> <br />Green claims the landscape, but gray <br />bark still covers a leafless tree: Is it dead, <br />or a late bloomer? The tiny leaves <br />of a willow press its branches <br />down toward the pond's surface. <br />Will heavier leaves soon <br />dip those branches into the water? <br />Or will they hover like Tantalus's lips <br />just above the pond all summer long? <br /> <br />A black dog parallels my steps, <br />barking fiercely and lunging at me, <br />but she does not cross the lawn's edge. <br />Her bite is certainly worse than her bark, <br />but I have no fear. When I fan <br />my fingers into a wave good-bye, she hops <br />in a circle, no longer barking or lunging. <br />Disarmed by my quiet lack of threat, <br />she slips back into her proper role as pet.<br /><br />Daniel Brick<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-walk-in-early-april/
