Smoke and ashes

Spring peepers trill invisible, infinite songs.
Redbuds popped today.
Students showed smudges
And stayed awake for sacred stories
Taken apart at the seams.

Taken apart at the seams
is how these years feel.
Submission is the order of the day.
Stealing like smoke into every
hollow, into every hope.

I’d rather crash through darkened branches
And go howling with the owls.
You can have these ashes.
Give me beauty instead, pregnant and full
Bursting apart at the seams.

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