Spring in the hinterlands
Finds me waiting
For the slow insurgence,
The army of blossoms
Up from the south.
And contending
The awakening of all else;
Earth’s hardened tracks
Last fall’s mud –
Loosed again to lay in wait
To suck at
The errant boot.
Squabbling woodchuck and opossum in
Lower and upper house dispute
I let them debate – ignorant of
My veto power
I cut dead stalks
From deck pots
Unsure of their replacement.
I continue to walk the miles
Now conscious of the sun
And movement
Bears in somnolent motion
And their legless brethren-in-nature,
The Narrow Fellows in the Grass
Makes me cold to the bone
Never seen a winter’s den of these –
(Not counting congress in session.
There, garter and rattler
Reside and abide. Alas.)

Tomorrow will be warmer
And the slow rotation
On axis palpable
Dipping and bathing
Us in a shine we
Seldom deserve

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