light green branches stir in the breeze
washes the cracked ground
Christmas wreathes—
withere on front doors
Front doors—
stand ajar
Classic cars—
emerge from under tarps
Geese, geese—
so noisy we can’t hear ourselves think
Small boys with bats—
swing, trying to puncture high cotton clouds
The pond’s face—
melts its frozen frown
Naked fish—
appear in the undressed stream
know why, know why, know why
Our spirits—
greening like the grass,
Our breath—
invisible again