It’s spring and the Earth lined up with the sun
and the moon just to tell us about it.
It’s spring and the ice floes are melting,
except in Brooklyn.
It’s spring and Easter is around the corner
reminding me to forgive scumbags and liars.
It’s spring and morning glories are popping out of the ground—
angel-wing shaped leaves reach for the sun.
It’s spring and that means the excuse called winter is chimney ash.
Sober green rivers have returned to blue and clouds dissipate as I sit to write.
Where will this season take us?