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By Jon Rieley-Goddard
copyright 2007-2008
Attic squirrel
in wet maple --
buds in branches.
On Sunday, I noticed that ash trees that I had watched for a few months now, for signs of new life, continued to shun their phoenix nature. I wanted to see green shoots rising from these ashes, but no, they would not.On Monday, in the rain, the maple outside our window was trying on green leaves, while the squirrel ( not exactly one of my buds) that lives in our attic sat, tail curved over his back like a ratty old umbrella.
April -- most cruel of months -- continues to change and mock and make promises in the mud.
April -- most cruel of months -- continues to mix memory and desire.
Memory of what is to come -- warm days, then hot ones.
Desire for what has been -- warm days, then hot ones.
- A version of this piece appears in my Grimoire: The Bros Grim Breakfast Serial.
