5 march, under foot

Warmer this morning as I venture out, usual

route.  Winter’s rigor seems to be easing into

an almost relaxed attitude.  Could be a softer

posture in the sunlight’s angle and the geometry

of the trees’ upright torsos to their branches.

Below my walking feet, I can feel the waiting

tight-knotted roots slipping loose, hear rumors of

seeds and bulbs finding their first pulse, displacing,

inching aside the encasing sod one granule at

a time.

Granted, there’s excess in these walking words. 

Must be covid’s quarantine having gotten to me.

But please consider the usual lunacy that comes

with hints of spring, and multiply exponentially.

Even the raucous crows agree more raucously.