Peter Blair: Vernation

On the road by the arena,
puddles fill ditches
and flaxen rushes wave
in March rain. 
 
Frail flick-weed bursts seeds
at the slightest touch
of bird-wing or shoe.
 
Gray as bark, a wren
perches on a rain-beaded
forsythia stem. 
 
            *
 
Heads bent, they weep
into cold tan grass,
as if lamenting
their lemon hair
dimmed to dull suns
in the misty yard:
daffodils in the rain
 
            *
 
On Good Friday afternoon
the dead tree
at 3 pm, ragged
and bare in cold sun
blooms with clusters
of brown leaves:
seven squirrels’ nests.
 
            *
 
A hawk perches
on a street lamp
 
as two finches
flutter
 
hover, swoop in
and slam
 
the tufted feathers
of its nape
 
beaks aimed
at its eyes.
 
            *
 
Across a highway,
a butterfly flits
dips, red wings
shoved by the car-winds,
barrel-rolled
by a truck, it rights
itself and makes
the spring pines beyond.
 

Peter Blair’s collections of poetry include Farang (Autumn House, 2010). He lives in Charlotte, North Carolina.

Copyright 2021 Peter Blair