I just cut the grass
trimmed, scuffled
a bedfull of weeds
how wet everything is
the white roots
the chocolate soil
where worms twist at the sun
when unearthed
and the ground bees have laid
their children
for the year to come
the swarms are now
the best
first of spring
My knees are brown
the sun puddles
on the green
and my hands shake
with minds of their own
and I wonder about bulbs,
seashores, the dryness
of lunar
white on the walls
of the house
at midnight
the sun warms my hand
with a yellow touch
the dark green grass
a bed for us
my hand
the yellow print
the lawn
already reaching
for the bush leaves
nearest the earth
there a rabbit
with a whole eye
there smoke under the clouds
good days for rain
at night
good nights
for moon prints
on the grass
