Blades of green stretch
like fingers on dueling pianos
while whirligigs tilt-a whirl toward the ground,
a fountain of twirling sound,
toppling down
the reckless and wild hillside,
sparkling driveway glitter,
the rustling coat of a Dalmatian
shivers in the cool spring Friday evening.
Warm weather walks to nowhere,
Saturday like a stranger from across the street
stooped on your stoop-
a face you’ve only seen
from the softening of distance and days.
Sunday rushes over you icy and wet,
bouncing in and out of sunshine,
red wine and remembrances
for another whirligig weekend.
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
Yeah, we used to call them helicopters. My sister used to split open the seedy part & straddle it onto her nose, call herself “Rhino.”
Fine work.
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How cute, Ron. They are loads of fun for the kids (now we have a new trick to try out), and just that seasonal happening that marks the passing of time. Thank you.
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soare you allowed more wine at the weekend, then? I must try that.
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Yes, you didn’t get the new regs about increasing wine drinking to survive the extended lockdowns? I’ll resend it to you. 😉
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