Springtime in Winnebago Valley

It was nine weeks before the solstice of summer,

When I noticed the glimmer of soft sunlight rise.

Creating a mirage of green shades and hues,

Not yet born to Winnebago Valley—

A place where melting glaciers had

sculpted the land –so beautifully!


Snowy patches had melted away.

The last of the juncos flew north.

Oak, Walnut, Maple, and Birch

Rushed to sport spring apparel.

But wild plum and cherry tree blossoms

Were the finest amidst bare branches.


The timbre from a hollow tree

Gave proudly to the woodpecker’s beat.

Goldfinch had turned fluorescent yellow.

Orioles raced in on the horsetail clouds.

And in those woods, I stood and listened

To the myriad of music.


Taking in a slow deep breath I held the smell of

Rain on the leaves and hidden Morels,

Tiny budding violets scattered on the hillside,

And the luscious green of fiddlehead ferns.

Little if any fragrance came from the yellow lady slippers.

But it’s rare beauty, was simply— enough!


Soon, last year’s fallen leaves will vanish.

New sights, smells, and sounds will flourish. 

—And as the sunlight began to fade

in Winnebago Valley,

I realized, “Each trip ‘round the sun,

Seems to go faster the longer I live.


Over the years I’ve noticed more tiny details with each changing season. Is there something that you recently discovered? Please leave me a note in the comments. I always enjoy hearing from you.

Thanks for stopping by,            

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