Pettable as brushed
nickel or skim
milk, newly
sprouted silver
pubes and snowdrops
suddenly dotting
the duff, the weak
light of early spring
blows forth a self-
portrait with no self
in it. Freshets
rush under
curbside ice crusts —
everything runs down
the gutter lanes.
The old pelt,
bleached with lice
and weather, goes
too — only the finite
today springing forward.
Did you enjoy the the artible “Sycamore in the Weak Light of Early Spring” from Kathy Fagan on OZOFE.COM? Do you know anyone who could enjoy it as much as you do? If so, don't hesitate to share this post to them and your other beloved ones.
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