The lovely terrific ground
Wears a paved path

And a glamorous glow:
Unblocked by barren branches

Of premature spring.
Somewhere

The woods terminate –
Giving a kind of birth to a field.

And on that flat field
The grass still licks

And drinks the
Rain of revival

From last night’s
Shimmering showers.

A young girl’s tricycle
Cuts a puddle on the path.

Each half rains down on the pavement –
Sprinkling it with dots.

I once
Was the one to make that happen.