i subsist on this right now
chartreuse
red, purple, black
and gold
early, brave dandelions, low-key wonders
muscari, moss, catkins, i study in real-time-lapse — like it’s my last Spring / is it?
these black birds — red-winged, grackles, and starlings, their obsidian gloss and iridescence, who could look away
sandhill cranes, five years familiar, but i am still arrested with awe every single time
deer roam in forage for hours for tender emergent greens among last year’s corn stover/
chorus frogs and woodcocks at twilight, i heard them into the night, this had to be the first white noise for human beings
i watch for owls til there’s no more light, straining my eyes / willing them to feast on the moles that i can’t bear to kill /
no one’s here to call me in / no street lights/ and i forget to eat til i am
ravenous or ravishing/ my favorite and unforgettable malaprop
i am warmed, buoyed, sated with vernal sensuality
but the mud, my heart – and hips
remind me
that i am also
moored, cold and heavy with an aching longing