less than 1 minute read

It’s Easter and all the daffodils are screaming
at the awakening ground- “Lazy arsehole!”
“Good for nothing useless compost!”
Rhubarb cracks fresh bones as it stretches
towards a terracotta sky, body on new body.
The stillness you found among roadkill
and in the cold and muddy verges
has been shattered by sudden ferns.
We have read the skies like scripture.
Now is the time to live- breathless, unforgiving.
I hold my unnoticed, selfish serenity close,
feel it crack open, send out exploratory shoots,
mutate into this fragile yellow dream.



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