Green
fields
defy
all cruel
April indictments;
germinated seeds push skywards
stems sprout from bare earth, grass blades thick as tulip foliage
absorb sunshine, sway in gentle
roll like windy waves-—
Sargasso
seaweed
ebb
tides.
Like
bulbs
deeply
buried gone
dormant then awake
from winter sleep, I reemerge,
stretch arms, scan vistas exercise geriatric legs
in fields where lilacs reign supreme
spread pollen among
picnickers
cause eyes
to
itch.
These
days,
peers still
alive share
retirement tales
reflect on escapades back when;
tomorrow nieces and nephews visit face to
I aired my house a week, dodged last
impressions that it
smells of old
people—
like
me.
