At Cobequid's Bay

Spring arrives in a parade
of icy chunks
like jack-o-lanterns in
the harbour, and
I spy on winter's lingering stare
from atop Economy Hill
hay fields huddling
beneath the snow
in bewildered disarray.

Weathered houses are
randomly sprinkled, with crows,
deer, a cat foraging
within my binocular view
and blueberry fields showcase
purple tinges, primping
within a mask of whiteness.
I yearn to join the dance.

Copyright © Richard L. Provencher
Website: www.wsprog.com/rp/