STRANDED

Today I saw earthworms, stranded by dawn

patient on a pavements rough crossing,

willingly waiting for death

in one of his thousand certain faces

to collect the price for their spring night’s daring.

Folks, eastering their way

plan for hope resurrected again and again.

Commencements and weddings roll in white gold processions

of loss and promise down aisles.

Bare skin warm hair, abandoned to wind and sun’s playfulness

give off glow and the odor of air

siren calls of body to body to body down the day.

Motion comes on blown window curtains.

sheets of sound of thrush song and ballgames

drift in and out holy openings

spring cracks into shells of our working and our living.

At dark, spring peepers shrill a whole suburban night

to fresh melancholy delight,

flood flesh with secret, half-conscious memory in streams

that drown TVs’ cries for attention to sweet deaf darkness.

Old as I am

young as I am

how will I get through spring’s ache whole

this year.