Easter- 2013

A little waver of wind outside
reminiscence, like youth as a cat
darting beneath parked cars
along the road, in driveways,
honest to disappearance
and hidden for bird songs
taken from air without angles.

As if graves could be uprooted
from the coils of fingertips
and the headstones burnished
back to uncarved mountains.

So this half timed cadence
to not be about them, tied dead,
and instead a sense proceeding
while before at the start. A fine sift
through imprints of new crocus.
A passing afternoon that slips
with clouds of ghosts and never
older than each  brief moment.