On the Yahara

"Sounds of the winter too,
Sunshine upon the mountains–many a distant strain
From cheery railroad train..."
     – Whitman, from "Sounds of the Winter"








Yahara Spring VII


Some bridges down, at East Washington,
the last of the rail cars click over the tracks
and leave a soft sound in the river.
Lake Monona awash with the swish of crisp waves,
Seagulls dive at the pickings at the shoreline,
menacing crows carelessly bound
along the Riverside streets of Jenifer,
Rutledge and Winnebago where oak twigs crash
and skip off the curbs and sidewalks.
Bundled joggers pass in heated breaths.
Childrens' bright eyes close as sneezes
ring out from under stroller hoods –
the world calls out this is the time of Spring.