Spring's Cleaning

The variegated willows bend soft beneath my hands
like children, leggy and wayward. Their soft bright
leaves curl to my fingers as I set gentle limits.

I pick the brave new weeds from their base.
The earth softens and my fingers meet worms,
enthusiastic and satiated friends.

Without thought I become the quiet of the day.
My bones soften as I turn my check to sun,
welcoming and expectant as my willows.