Spring Sapphic

Near the footbridge spanning the stream, white snowdrops
burst, a cluster all alone among oak leaves
transitory, easy to miss, but never
April without them.

Through the branches grey squirrels bark their ardour,
juncos bell-like, chickadees’ mournful whistle.
When the song sparrow takes his post, he utters
sunlight elated.

Planter

A garden is a poem.
Today I bought cedar two-by-fours
built a raised bed
and filled it with Agro Mix.
Now it's empty.
Planting will take some time.
I'm too tired for words.