Backend of March
Bird-song returns.
The lingering dead sweep their ghost
under a softening earth.
A Carolina Wren jabs and hops
in a small ring of pale sunlight
ready to fight a hawk
if one may dare.
In the back of a cold season
the wind dresses scarecrows
with dust free feathers.
Flags shake off the chilled
dandle of winters breath.
Ice scabs peel from sod and mulch.
One inaugural leaf
invites a green legend.
Soon becomes
tomorrows sun-dried wings.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2021
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