Paying attention to signs of spring and warm weather, wherever they hide! This morning outside my window, the birds sing of it--there's a fresh urgency in their cries.
Here's a summer poem from my poetry chapbook:
The wealthy child's entourage
from neap tides and bone china,
slim genteel peninsula
between youth, aging
death and birth.
She feels one room's air, then another
where they slept.
Bell calling the servants is
shelved. Sea and wind scour
her Cape's changing arm--
play at songs on window screens.
More rooms are silent
doors remain closed.
She cuts bittersweet from a wall of stone.
Even the dust is a layer of pity.