-spring ready-

the stands
of the maples and elms

are inhaling, ready to blow-
up their heads.

the patchwork grasses
plot a movement around them
rolling in a wind toward the banks
of the river.

the earth seems to take
a cautious first step

approaching rejuvenation.

elsewhere, my friends celebrate
the sight of the first robins to perch
upon the porch rails.

they walk the snowmelt
at the stream’s bank

and glory in the narrow beauty
of birches leaning into it.

around us, whatever was clinging

has opened its fist.
we've grown weary of skeletons.

our coats have become heavy.

now, and for three seasons

it won’t be too cold to feel our fingertips.

now, and for a season
it won’t be hot enough to fry a chicken's
egg upon the asphalt.

at the tabletop rests the last bowl
of a winter-morning's oatmeal cooling
at the open window in the sunlight.