the groundhog, if she hurries away
when I edge closer to her
out in the meadow —
the phoebe, when she shelters
a second clutch of eggs
high in the rafters —
the leafed-out elms
branches like emerald platters
& a silken swish if wind
pushes them away —
lightning bugs in rain
can morph you from a body in bed
to a vessel reaching port, your sails ablaze
No comments:
Post a Comment