April arrives in flames
bright plumes on the horizon
and it
without the benefit of sirens
instead inspires birdsong
and the slow rumble roar
of the long
awakening
so I drop and roll
in the field
press my ear against the ground
to hear the millions yield
their sound
the bulb and bird and beetle
how we go
too
from smoke to red hot fire
the days from start to end
burning holes
through quiet
Poem and photo ©2024, Jen Payne. If you like this poem, you can read similar in my books and zines, available from Three Chairs Publishing on my ETSY SHOP. They come autographed, with gratitude and a small gift.
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