We’re getting close to Spring, but not quite there yet! Here are two poems in tune with this time. I love Poetry Friday!
by A. R. Ammons
Spring thaw peels loose
the leaves snow caught
last fall before they
had really settled down:
now, windy Sunday, they
stir over dry lawn
and remnant windrows of
ice, as if looking
for the place they’d meant
to go: but it’s not now
as it was then
settling-down time, and
everywhere the leaves go
amid the funeral arrangements
and the eyes of jonquils
hold on to their morning
tears and demure snowdrops
try not to look so bright.
by Alan Michael Parker
On the first good day of yard work
winter pours from my body,
soaks my shirt with its briny shadows.
Out of storage, window screens fleck the lawn
like great farms seen from the air.
My fingers wriggle in new work gloves,
itching to do a little digging, to join
the earthworm’s long, dark translation of the world
On the stoop by the garden, a locust has left
a carapace intact, a good idea of himself.
In his kingdom, as in most, what’s done
in the name of introspection
can often be a curse.
A lone toad hops on into town, passes Big Man,
knocks back a gnat, and goes underground.
Here for a moment I am a small force
of one, even though I only turn
the soil and often fail
to recognize what I uncover.
I weed near the crocuses,
in light of their still-blooms,
clear a patch so the thyme
can send out its wild runners.