
Filters through dense fog:
little rebel winter sun,
springs into wattle.

Filters through dense fog:
little rebel winter sun,
springs into wattle.

Cold feet wearing off,
the buds are ready to pop
spring is almost here.

Dreaming of the skies
we run amongst giant trees
felling them for gains.

Roaming our sidewalks,
awry limbed shadow figures;
paintings no one sees.