Leaves in trees sing sweet and sharp breeze,
Iced dew on trilliums with spring freeze.
Hushed omens of rooted deer femurs,
Rushed growth of leeks and small rivers.
Hiss of cricket and cracked, damaged
Branches that creek above in suspension,
Poised avalanches.
Moisture wicked off budding ferns down
Stems like ballpoint, quill pen turns.
Blankets of moss overtop cedar gently padded
Our toes between sock and polyester.
The smack of coyote howl hacked
Like woodpecker thwack through antlers and
Tree trunks tracked by my own ears,
And I twist each string of melody into my
Cataloged years, so I never forget the swift lifting
Spell of days when red robin throats first swelled.