The poplar waits for the orioles to return
Winter torpor
boughs break in wild winds
squirrel-scamper slows sluggish
we sleep while pigs root
deer scrape
boles fill with sleepy snakes
lizards curl
toads dig down deep in leaf litter
leaves stay tight closed
inside in warm sap
crow-song and jay-chatter
crack the icy air grey and clinging cold
a monotone monochrome
through long weeks.
But with softening sun-skies
light that lingers longer
green urges and thrusts timid leaf-fingers
white downy seed pods blow
and in the warming
squirrel-scamper patters
spring comes
pan-fluted by returning children
and their stories of far places
the lush and the dry
their joy to be home
in this poplar tree
by this stream.
The Wombwell Rainbow 