First warm day

First warm day. I sit in the shade closing one eye then the other.

This phoebeing— even the pants on the line seem to get the rhythm.

Vicious groundhog fight. The victor stands still & lets the flies land on his face.

Fur in the air— the cattails are shedding.

As slow as spring on the half-naked dead elm, a fox squirrel’s tail.

The vulture’s shadow travels four times farther— up & down each tree.

This morning in its vase on the table, the forsythia bloomed.