Dave Bonta strings together a series of small observations from one spring, all gathered close to the house. Nothing is explained. We get a millipede by the toothbrushes, hawks squabbling in the heat, a pregnant cat glaring from behind the hyacinths, and bears that leave muddy pawprints on the windows. The opening line, "Autumn in April," sets the tone: the season feels slightly off, with leaves falling and maples red when they shouldn't be.
The speaker seems mostly a calm watcher, amused and attentive rather than alarmed. The "unseasonable heat" hints at unease, but the poem never dwells on it. Instead, wildness keeps crossing into ordinary life, from the bathroom wall to the window glass. The mood is quiet, curious, and a little wry. The closing image, a male cardinal in a plum tree whose branches porcupines have gnawed, ends on a bright spot of color amid the damage, and the poem leaves us there without comment.