So new, it just saw ink this afternoon...
We are airing out; a people of pale
arms, fed through drivers’ side windows.
And like our flesh, the earth remembers heat.
Eats it. Soaks its toes. Stores it for breakfast.
While the sun cleans out our ears:
a birdy conversation in answer to the trees,
the breeze climbing the rise like a man,
a new green louder than death.
It’s spring and I want to catch fever,
meet my poison and swallow my fear.
It’s spring and I’ll race you to the hill
where this laughter already passes
and our souls already stand.
This actually began as a re-write that then worked in about three old haikus from last spring. Still a bit rough, so could use feedback!