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spysgrandson
Poems
Mar 2018
in his back yard
the third day of spring, pear blossoms fall like snowflakes
then disappear in the new grass
this blanket coming green after a russet winter
during which the old man took shovel to earth
to bury her last Retriever
the runt of the litter, yet it grew strong
and outlived her by only a fortnight, after sniffing her dormant beds, lying at the foot of her lawn chair
as if the canine divined where he last saw her:
lounging in the yard, reading Dickinson under early March light,
sipping a mint tea, scratching the pet's ears;
she passed there, under the same trees, winter's survivors
not yet in bloom
though full of budding promise, unrealized, unseen, but there even as they lay her in the ground
Written by
spysgrandson
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