Spring

Forward, past the Ides of March–
boots pack soil and cake themselves.

Robins hop for worms again,
moist soil clinging to their beaks.

Seedlings punch their garden womb,
drink the sun, spread their roots.

There is death among us now,
it never shrinks or fades.

But right this minute,
once-hibernating bees
are warming their wings
to take to the sky

and leave their shadows on the ground,
where the reaper keeps what he sows.

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s