I see edge of earth dipping below
horizon where blue light of morning
filters upward with cloud-cover and birdwing.
I hear cries of little ones stretch each
other thin and scratch through melting
patience of a forgiveness-filled house.
I smell planting season beneath closed
windows where damp earth warms and
waits for everything: rain sun seeds.
I feel grinding heaviness of Winter’s frozen
work resisting its fruition, contracting ever
tighter around its dormancy, afraid.
Tasting afternoon, its creamed coffee,
I plan days to come, savor days behind,
see the edge of earth and soak in now.