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Kokopelli

Tumbling gray clouds 
come clothed in a bundle
of rhythmic chords
as Kokopelli comes. 
Coming closer.

In his back pack 
tricks of his trade,
flesh of green leaf
seeds, willow 
sprouts.

Knocking around 
the hollow of his 
hunched back,
moss like string, 
rich new shoots, 
scruffy fluff, 

all those things
that  make a bird sing. 
He tramps over  fields 
of slush, leaving puddles 
in his tracks looking 
for possibilities hidden 
beneath frozen ground.

Kokopelli is early this year 
looking for a place to plant 
his patch of Spring.

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