this morning i noticed the naked winter trees, roosting and rooted.
they’d ejaculated bright blossoms, little green leaflets from their stems,
emerging from the silence in the sky. i’m surrounded.
i hadn’t witnessed it the day before, nor was there any word of it on the news.
it’s still winter to the months, but spring has hit the season.
it’s 85 degrees already and it’s march, baking in the northern hemisphere.
there’s red skin tightened over my chest, willing to turn brown,
and honey bees in the air, swimming in curiosity over surprise attacks.
(maybe the rumors were true).
also, the year of an ancient indian prediction.
not a pandemic disaster per se, but an unusual alignment,
what humans were entertained by before the televisions:
colossal cosmic constellation curtains and comets
and brilliant gassy lights beneath moon shadow silk.
rumored to be same kind of invention that
caused the blossoms to proceed so suddenly
this rich morning.
Written in Columbia, SC 2012