Looking
back in summer, I
don't want to say
I saw
the April sun dazzle
anything too gradually;
or remember
dimly hearing
birds sweettalk buds
from the blank
woods one-by-one;
or note
how I nosed
distant fertile
potential in the cold
wind swirling brown
and dried
Pennysavers on the Dan Ryan—
no, I want my
affirmations
to start small
at home
in upstart indoor basil gardens,
and I'd like my
spring just
flung at me one day;
fully-
automatic
and all—
of a sudden.
