Hepatica nobilis

Above the road bank where the hepatica has just come into bloom, carrion beetles clamber through the quills of a dead porcupine. Spring azure butterflies ring what’s left of its mouth— a void spanned by a pair of yellow rails— & ignore the blossoms swaying on their downy stems in all the colors of the sky, white & pink & blue. The snow hasn’t been gone a week, but already life & death seem far apart. The rusty leaves that lasted the winter out are relaxing into the earth, & soon will be indecipherable even to the most ardent follower of the doctrine of signatures in search of liverleaf, or those who seek respite from dreams of snakes.