CANTO 60 This late in March

 

This late in March the woods

are tonic! all its chords

comfort the tired house.

Balm in the wind massages

the roof, eases arthritic

windows, soothes the ache

that creaks in the attic

as the house breathes deep.

Curtains explore the walls.

Warbles shimmer in cobwebs, tickle

dust-balls that frisk from the broom.

Trills of waxwings shine the floors.

Seeds rustle in their packets.

Crow-caws rattle cups and tingle

piano-strings while screams of jays

twist pipes in their threads.

Doors go climbing stairs.

Walls dissolve. Mirrors hang

in mid-air,

frame the rising crocus,

lotus in pond of lawn.