at the little grey house on the corner
the spirea has begun to bloom,
delicate white blossoms creeping mistily down its long, slender branches.
All articles filed in nature poetry
april showers
after weeks of dry weather —
or merely a tease of moisture in the form of fog
or snow or sleet or drizzle —
the spring skies have finally broken open
desecrated places
wendell says there are no unsacred places,
only desecrated ones, but i don’t know
what desecration looks like in the wild.
return
new green leaves unfurl tentatively from last year’s dry brown canes
Read Moreapril shower
the rain hits the pavement with a steady splash
and shafts of lightning forewarn of thunder’s uneasy rumble
ghost falls ii
the winds scrapes rough on bleaching bone
and the whitened trunks of weathered trees
11:30
the fog hides in the hollows
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thorn
in the poppy bed
there’s a stubborn weed
i never can seem to kill
dressed for spring
midway up the hill
the neighbor’s weeping fig
is dressed for spring
a gown of bridal white blossoms
shielding leafless branches.
the lily bed
if i had any rage i took it out on the lily bed and its web of ingrown roots the fruit of thirty years of spawning tigers i scythed and hoed, slicing through sod separating innumerable worms from their other ends and cleaving through the rusty orange roots that choked the ground until, at last,…
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