Late April and only
coltsfoot—Tussilago farfara—breaking leaf litter.
Our daffodils, peonies and crocuses
are also making signs.
April is the cruelest month, I forget why.
A sweet slow Spring
no sudden changes
each leg and leaf unfolds deliberately. You can't miss it.
New York City's spring rushes like a yellow cab
into summer. One day leaves are wet,
next they’re leather. I prefer this slow dance,
birds mating on the sky, peepers evolving into frogs.
Repairs take weeks or months. Septic,
garage door, cracked windshield, clean windows,
build bridge, buy land, rake leaves off erosion control,
cut wood, prune lilac, paint lawn chairs.
More carefully inspect, identify, the insect
of the week, a fly with an ant’s body
that skirts the grass and falls in drinks.
Look more closely! It will be gone in a few days!
Then it will be the time of moths or fireflies,
mosquitoes and wasps. Mud road,
red-winged blackbird. The slashing stream
topples old trees. My legs hurt.
In waste places beside the road
Coltsfoot grows in fertile till.
A smallish flower no higher than a toad
Its habitat seems to fit the bill.
Not expecting a flower in this land
Odd brown scales clasp its stalk.
Skunk cabbage neighbors in its sand
And makes a "feller" stop and gawk..
Leaves not unlike the hoof of a colt
Hence the name, Colts-foot, you know.
The first flower in spring to bolt
And a weed that escapes my hoe.
By any name, it's still a weed.
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