Thurs., Apr. 2

To see spring, you have to get on your hands and knees.
It doesn't show as well standing, upright and on your feet.
Looking out and around the world is still greyish
and only a little greenish, dimly.
The sprouts and shoots and tiny blossoms
will only open up their glory
if you put your face up close, nose to nose,
damp soil staining your pants slowly
up through your knees, denting down the turf.
Arise, and see the further trees
anew, with the wisp
of buds and sap vibrating a green glow
up through the browns and tans and gravelly crisps
of bark about to burst away
showing a tenderer skin beneath,
and as cool breezes nudge you in,
to the house where
you have to change your clothes,
mud on your cuffs, your elbows, your nose.