May Cold Front
Anticipating summer, we
sense late chill: spring again
that subtle swims along the warm,
anticipating summer. We
hold to it, hold to this green word
the fields give – stubborn still,
anticipating. Summer, we
sense late chill. Spring again.
This dirt I’d mole down, reaching
roots, or troweling through.
This dirt I’d mole — down, reaching
thoughts past thought, all desire
for wind, for brambles: turns
this. Dirt I’d mole down, reaching
roots or troweling, through.