Tamaracks sprout emerald needle
clumps as my dog and I move through them
to the north. Scotch pines put out yellow
blooms, and I run a fisted hand
up the length of last year’s growth
that feels like cold, damp pelts.
Moving west through gully, we see new shoots
poke through a tangle of brown, dead
field grass. Ground juniper pushes forth
green barbs as I crush the buds of
jack pine and hold the sticky fragrance
to my face. Climbing low in the ravine
we hear frogs down at the springs until
our nearness silences their songs. The
willows here are leafing out and bulrush
stalks break surface on the pond.
The southern poplars, I am never sure
white or black, but one of them is opening
out its leaves. Birch trees are slower than
the rest. So are the oaks but looking close
I discover tiny buds. Full circle now and
my dog lies panting on the step. I pet her
sleek black head and consider the world’s
long slow change. Four hundred years ago
my report of spring’s concatenation, black dog
as companion, could have brought me bowed
with wicked knowledge to a stake. Burned in
a fire kindled with trees that I have known.
clumps as my dog and I move through them
to the north. Scotch pines put out yellow
blooms, and I run a fisted hand
up the length of last year’s growth
that feels like cold, damp pelts.
Moving west through gully, we see new shoots
poke through a tangle of brown, dead
field grass. Ground juniper pushes forth
green barbs as I crush the buds of
jack pine and hold the sticky fragrance
to my face. Climbing low in the ravine
we hear frogs down at the springs until
our nearness silences their songs. The
willows here are leafing out and bulrush
stalks break surface on the pond.
The southern poplars, I am never sure
white or black, but one of them is opening
out its leaves. Birch trees are slower than
the rest. So are the oaks but looking close
I discover tiny buds. Full circle now and
my dog lies panting on the step. I pet her
sleek black head and consider the world’s
long slow change. Four hundred years ago
my report of spring’s concatenation, black dog
as companion, could have brought me bowed
with wicked knowledge to a stake. Burned in
a fire kindled with trees that I have known.