Dave Bonta's "Harbingers" is a short, quiet look at the forest in late winter, just before things start to change. The first image is of last autumn's leaves, flattened by months of snow and barely moving in the wind. The speaker compares them to ears pressed to the ground, as if the leaves are listening for something coming up through the earth. "Surely they know what's coming," the speaker says, and the line feels half-playful, half-uneasy. Spring is on its way, but the word "harbingers" in the title hints that what's coming might be more than just warmer weather.
The second stanza turns darker. The stones are "askew," out of place, and whatever lies beneath them doesn't seem to be "resting in peace." The speaker doesn't say what that is, and that's what makes it eerie. The mood is hushed, watchful and slightly haunted, as though the thaw could stir up something buried as well as new growth.