With a sweatshirt on
The hood pulled tight
It is just warm enough to sit on the front porch

Waiting for the sun
To appear over the neighbor’s house
Wrapping me in its new spring warmth

A slight breeze waggles the newly budded poplars

I’m thinking of the American Woodcock
And its strange call we heard last night

It has an aerobatic courtship display
That I have never seen

I should move the car

Then I could see the yellow daffodils
That were my father’s favorites