A View of the Jungle

Wildlife flows from tree to tree
Migrating horizontally.
Or each individual tree that’s grown
Is a vertical jungle all it’s own.

A cacophony in the canopy,
A slither between bare roots,
A rustling through entwining vines,
A hair-raising cry of hoots,

Reptiles, primates, lemurs, sloths,
Tree frogs, spiders, birds and moths,
Tigers, leopards, butterflies
Within the green a billion eyes.

You may see them. You may not,
Camouflaged in view.
But rest assured the jungle eyes
Are staring right at you.

MARCH

Cotton-ball clouds
Suspended in brilliant blue,
Overlook wheat-yellow fields.

Knarly black limbs
Like fingers on time-worn hands,
Beg to bud golden-green leaves.

But they must wait.

A last, winter blast
Enveloped with silver-ice blades,
Marches in navy-blue waves.