wing spread

fledgling osprey chick

rises to a stand in nest

high atop utility pole

shudders, then lifts out

impossibly long wings

far to the sides of its slender body

raises them to shoulder level

only slightly bent at each elbow

wanting something but barely

contemplating the thrill or demand

of flight

awakening a joyful noise

handbells uncased, set in line

on cushioned tables ready

to be lifted again in easter joy

(after a lot of practice)

mist whispers

 mist whispers

to each blade of grass

as it lifts

from their caress

putting on airs

air galivants, twisting, spiraling

flipping directions in all curved corners

of a sphere we cannot see

except as it pushes playfully

or with malice against limbs

furling, flaming, flaunting flags

causing whispered murmurings in pines

whipping dust up into devils

dropping in gray-purple funnels

as tornados or gleefully lifting birds

on unseen highway thermals

air is an active creature we humans

pretend is still until it blows us over

croaking of spring

unsung, it struggles early

to lift through soil, mulch of dead leaves

glistening frost to prick at winter

with slender green point

which pushes itself upright

unfolds as yellow, pink or purple-blue

crocus