finding a dead leaf
to wipe my brow
Category: forest
fiddleheads
every hour less spring,
more escape
our mountain of lost hemlocks
speaking in moss
Appalachian spring
the pale green sugar
maples’ sun
unfinished
with its commitments
living stump
pole timber
going on and on
about class
all that effort
to pose as a corpse
wake-robins
shack
in the forest
the footfalls of moss
climbing the mountain
a new cloud
almost in bloom
April wood turtle
seeking shade
within
hepaticas
the mountain’s timeless
spring fashions
what flutters
in the leaf litter
hepaticas
