Impatience

Oak leaves blow around on the ground,
every leaf turned brown.

Oaks have held them like feathers all winter,
unlike the snow

that comes as fancy white flakes
and the next day goes.

It may be pride
that sets laggard oaks aside

or it may be caution.
I stick my head out the door.

Not one bird sings.
Our earth, by God, is too cautious.

C’mon earth: Spring!