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This Hallowed Ground and Sky

by Kevin T. McEneaney
Fri Feb 24th, 2017

Early signs of spring:

pale tracks of wandering birds

melted to liquid wonder;

aconite sings its lonely solo

song by a red shed;

a waxing increment

of two minutes a day

sheds increasing hope

as ground beneath one’s feet

feels softer to tread each day….

 

Even household cats

turn less cranky.

 

Red wings flap about.

green-winged teal,

pussy willow preens,

witch hazel glows,

a growing list…

 

If one merely looks

at a container of seeds,

they sound like  rattles

ready to smash and scatter….

 

Spring is both fast-approaching fact

and imagination run rampant….

To heft a seed in hand

appears akin to primitive magic….

 

To think budding will soon begin again….