It Was After March 21st When I Saw

my first robin through the waking mist

The pine vole silently declared, “Spring!
when I found him on the concrete bloodied and stiff
at the paws of our cat

he had lived in the cracks of our house
climbing in and out of our dustbuster for crumbs

puddles awake and sleep, indecisive
trees bare and wet, waiting
melting snow uncovering seeds and corpses


the black squirrel in the front yard still
breathing but unable to move from the four crows
slowly snapping at its life for theirs

awakening in me from deep time
______[a shared part of ancient man: killing animals, drinking from streams with your face, taking a woman as fleshy property, not knowing why the rain comes]

this part of me presses the thin barrel
of my new BB gun to the back of the squirrels skull

life and death turn over


I head inside to gently pick up
our new, beautiful crying baby

the Spring breeze
cool and warm
invisibly touches my face