Snow remains in patchworks
where shadows hold their grudges.
Light leaks from cloudbanks glancing
over grasslands like a matchbook.
Meltwater trickles smudges
down crevices of canyon.
Crows tumble plum-black feathers.
Spring’s fitful weather’s starting.
Compost of thistles, bracken
transfigure scratch together.
The marsh gas triggers sparks.
A mockingbird goes bragging
about its spoilt crabapple
across the pockmarked rubble.
It’s plagiarized odd chatter
was picked from little scraps
talk radio once covered.
The river plays more static.
We dash through trash and bustle,
bright nubbins budding out.
Each nettle bristles golden,
whole meadows lit with tassels,
rich moss massed all about us:
a rot that dazzles thresholds.
— from Juniper Volume 7, Issue 1