on plants and other wild things
On Lantern Hill the shadbush blooms
And clouds meander overhead.
The rocks are rough beneath my boots
The lichens stiff beneath my hand.
A small black-suited butterfly
Imbibes the blossoms airy mead.
I watch the redtails hover by
Stretch out my legs and take my ease.
I’ve heard that when the shadbush blows
The shadfish breast New England stream
Their frail white petals brush my nose
Among the still-emerging leaves.
I
Quacking and chattering like demented ghosts,
Small frogs in woodland pools
Startle us. We lift an oak leaf
To uncover the first velvet pipsissewa.
Onioins and pink coated peas
Are lined up in trenches like good soldiers
Waiting for the sun to bugle reveille.
Chives shoulder green lances.
Rejoice greatly, ye robins and phoebes.
Gambol, you worms, in the compost. Our window
Shutters make excellent nesting ledges.
Prepare a welcome for the tree swallows.
II
Like a chocolate bunny
Encircled by Easter
Eggs, the gray
Squirrel sits
Among the yellow,
White and lavender
Crocuses eating
Seeds under the bird
Feeder. Suddenly
He runs up
The ree and clings
Horizontally, flapping
His beaver tail,
A dusty rug,
Head turning
To eye my binoculars.
Some people
Hear colors.
The cardinal’s a siren;
His wife, Morse
Code. In polyphony
They peck like hens.
Holding up
Her red beads,
The maple admires
Her reflection
In the window glass.