Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Indeed

Sssshhh, Jason is sleeping... you know, because decent people are usually already asleep by now. But I have an overnight shift for inventory Wednesday and I'm trying to get myself to stay up late so I won't fall asleep then. Which is great, except that my husband works at 7 AM every day this week. Oh well.

Thus far, you all seem willing to put up with my somewhat untrained writing attempts... so I suppose I'll bother you with yet another one... Apparently I only want to write at one o'clock in the morning.

Resurrection

To begin with, there are the geese, greedy early birds
hell-bent northbound, flying in
these ragged, uncertain arrowheads
Blackbirds suddenly squabble for space outside my door
They announce themselves ambassadors of the change
whether I want them there or not

Add to that tiny forest frogs, who seduce themselves
with a volume that defies their size
The least attractive sounds I have ever heard
Though I suppose I'm not a toad, not even a little tadpole
just an unknown, unwilling audience to
their deafening endeavors

I'm still waiting for the land to rise to their challenge.
What grass there is, is brittle and brown
Trees remain bare bones breaking the line of sky
The sun's warmth is yet undone by chilly winter winds
I have not seen a flower in three months that wasn't
Sitting pretty on a windowsill

What a disservice done to nature in declaring its start
when plastic comes off the windows or
when enough willpower is gathered to clean the house
Listless printed numbers on a lifeless calendar
I'd rather picture the first old river turtle sunning roadside
That beginning burst of stubborn happy weeds in the yard

Listen to the rhythm all the noise is making
Watch carefully for tractors on the road, pulling off into fields
Certain men begin to debate in diners over coffee the likelihood of rain
Put your trust in farmers and in the wild things;
They feel it first, and their restlessness welcomes in
this next repetition of the land's resurrection.
 

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