The birch, finished now with hanging
…….her catkins, those thousands &
thousands of ornamentals, she’s considering
…….once again just what this life is
all about while readying herself,
…….dressing up in her fresh spring outfit,
the green leaves bursting forth
…….before the delicate
catkins begin
…….falling down…

………………………..Mid-April,
…….some say, offers an altogether new
perspective, but that story’s as old as the strange-
…….sea creatures embedded in rock in-
side the earth’s belly hundreds of feet
…….beneath our feet.
That coral bed that lies under
…….us must be laughing its head off
at our simple-minded notions, what we call a new
…….
season, our new age. No matter how long
we’ve lived, we are nothing more than one
…….brief eye blink that’s similar
to those little catkins just now
…….dropping off the birch tree or
just another of those odd-shaped creatures
…….that lie embedded far beneath us.
Someone else, in some faraway epoch, will lift her
…….eyebrow, give a supercilious glance & say
to her of child looking up for some wisdom,
…….See how very odd these creatures seem
behind their glass cases. Just imagine what
…….
such a place might’ve been like back then?

+

More than three hundred and fifty of Terry Savoie’s poems have been published in literary journals over the past four decades, including American Poetry Review, Ploughshares, Poetry, Prairie Schooner, Great River Review, The Iowa Review and North American Review and recent or forthcoming issues of The American Journal of Poetry, America, One, Cortland Review and Birmingham Poetry Review. His chapbook, Reading Sunday, won the Bright Hill Competition and was published in the spring of 2018.