Spring, and no one can be still, with all the messages coming through.
We walk outside as though going to meet visitors, wild roses, trilliums by the water.
A tight knot loosens. Something that died in December
lifts a head out, and opens.
Trees, the tribe gathers. Who has a chance against such an elegant assemblage?
Before this power, human beings are chives to be chopped, gnats to be waved away.