you become so aware of the trees
the flowers change daily hourly minute by minute even
and the woods have their own agenda
the foxes you know think of us plenty
we throw all our bones off the deck
all the old things sit
not long in the wild onions
before the foxes come mute
neighbours we know well
they spend the day coming and going
up and down the stream where we cannot
in a pandemic but we still eat
and they must find it rather strange
to find the courts and places and drives
not deserted by day as usual
but full of vigorous couples and children
on bicycles almost ceaselessly
almost as if we had only just noticed spring
for the first time in history and thinking
it solemn and wondrous cancelled all our normal plans
to focus great concentration
on the miracle.
april, wherever we are
