To Every Season

For Bill B:

Come summer, I long
For winter; in winter I
long once more for spring.
Come Autumn, I’m contented
But for everything dying.

Skat@2017

No, No, Nonet!

First one dove arrived,
then a pair joined the group–now
six more drop their poop
atop my fence and flop out
on the ground; I had to share.

skat@2017