budburst time

even the empty bench
is turning green

finding where the night goes

cave water

the prayer-like feeling
of patting dirt

seed potatoes cut down
to one eye each

the forest is fully awake for
doomed blooms

millipede on the green
bathroom wall
waves passing through
its carpet of feet

finding a dead leaf
to wipe my brow

every hour less spring,
more escape

a waterthrush
ready for business

pear trees advertising
for sex

speaking in moss

the pale green sugar
maples’ sun