Spring Song
Mud cracks its teeth.
Roots crunch and seep.
A stored ripening sunlight,
open veins under wet sods.
We are conveyed above the melt,
on guttering rapids,
through the narrows
of squelching hedgerows.
Paws soak in a sparkle of dew.
Winter thaws in hollows,
pushes heat into slick droplets,
into the sip and tipple
of as yet untrodden stems.
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