Blow your hat off wind. Leaves bang into each other like a shaman’s rattle. Many break off. They’re pushed to the ground like diving pigeons after breadcrumbs and swept up again in little tornadoes. Nose alert! It’s the threat of sneezing time as the Nature’s broom releases the molds.
Sidewalk is glistening from a fresh polish of a recent shower. Dark red-orange fragile remnants under foot, veins in surrender. Watch your step; a slippery mat.
The trees have nowhere to hide, unlike bears and gophers. Both awakened again by the incessant buzzing of the spring sun’s alarm. Awakening from the Rip Van Wrinkle winter. What? Where am I? Who am I? What Am I doing here? I am so hungry. I’m so stiff….