squirrel, in your tree,
did you know today was spring?
i think you did too.
On the first day of Spring,
if you remind me – or even if you
don’t, or can’t, or won’t,
because of the work
raining down on you,
head and shoulders, trickling
through the lines of worry
in your forehead, around
each eye – I’ll take
you out so far
they’ll never be able to find
you, with their
fax machines and
telephones and
dial tones and beepers
that only go off when
we love, or when we kiss –
and where we go,
when we go, the only
headlines we’ll have to read
will be the ones we’ll
trace, fingers running
like racehorses – because
you always liked thoroughbreds,
and Arabians – across
your face, and mine,
and the soul of the desert
all around us
with only God, stars, and angels
above us on the first night of
Spring.
+++
An old stream-of-consciousness thing from a few years ago, that felt appropiate, being today and all.