there is a moment
\nin spring yard cleanup
\nafter we have picked up
\ncrusty pages of embalmed love letters
\npillar-to-post plastic bags
\nand after we have scraped the dried packed
\ncopper-patina leaves off the flowerbeds
\nand into long straggling phalanxes
\nacross the resurgent grass
\nat that moment, when the spring heat hits
\nand my face is almost down
\nin the big bag with the leaves
\nscooped into it
\nand the spice of distant autumn flows
\ninto my sinuses like memories
\nof last autumn’s pumpkin pie
\nat that moment
\nI feel the hard hands of someone
\nbending down over the rows of leaves
\nyears ago doing the same
\nwinter harvest
\nand I hear the horse nearby
\nchomping sweet spring shoots
\nand the heat sings to me like steel bands
\nclamping a rain barrel together<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
there is a moment in spring yard cleanup after we have picked up crusty pages of embalmed love letters pillar-to-post plastic bags and after we have scraped the dried packed copper-patina leaves off the flowerbeds and into long straggling phalanxes … Continue reading