Seeking shelter
in words
in the pauses between
and in the long rain
dropping now in softness. 2-29-12
Wood poppy’s first
leaves say it all—
winter is over. 3-3-12
The eye follows growth,
even the sideways
broken growth.
It was all for light,
all the wide open faces
needing light
for breath. 3-4-12
Fuzzy yellow bumblebee
lopes across bare twigs.
It’s warm enough,
but not warm enough. 3-8-12
Nothing to puddle on
but sunlight—lavender butterfly
on last year’s maroon bitterwort
waving its wings. 3-8-12
Spring is about the sun
marching up. Honeysuckle’s
little green chins tilt up to watch. 3-11-12
My spot, under crab apple buds,
next to cardinal’s call,
breathing bloodroot’s light, here,
on the tilted flagstone,
in the thin woods,
waiting. 3-14-12
Two deer in the yard.
The black and white tails
point down to spring breakfast—
partridge berry. 3-14-12
Bitterwort is breathing
sweet yellow flowers
on the exhale. 3-20-12
To the brown woods
honeysuckles bring green,
a leafed relief. 3-10-12
How did we get through winter
without wood poppy’s
sweet breath? 3-20-12
With insistence, redbird
stokes spring, one call
upon another. 3-20-12
Carolina wren made a home
in the wreath—mosses, leaves,
a cupped space
that moves with our comings and goings,
a space for eggs, for sitting,
for waiting,
a front door home. 3-29-12
