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Thank god it’s March, thank god it’s raining,

The water gnawing the last crusts of snow
In the yard where a lone crocus parts its lips.

Just days now until a chorus of color
Will welcome you back, the cold

Ground greening to meet you and
Pansies blinking up from the mulch.


Yesterday I woke to find the branch tips
Lit with green and purple flames.

Earlier each day now the window frames
The dawn. I see your face in every square

Of the calendar the sun pins to the floor.
I’m baking bread with flour from last year’s wheat.

I washed your favorite sheets and filled
Your room with hothouse tulips.


I know you’ll come, but when?

A late frost mocks the sparks
of my insatiable impatience.


Soon enough the irises will don
Their ballgowns underneath the elm.

Soon enough the hyacinths
will quiver clustered bells.

Inevitable angel, hasten home.


Spring after spring after spring
The frogs outsmart the underworld.

Evenings on the screened-in porch
I hold my breath and listen for their song.