Spring And I Are Restless - Poem by David Wright
Peach leaves emerge
What are they thinking?
And barn swallows
show up to check the old nest
under the patio roof
as if it were already time
to nurture a clutch.
She reminds me I missed Jacques
this afternoon. True enough,
but I have the book
and this is not a day
to watch a cooking show.
I am considering this poem,
amazed again that spring
jump starts in south Texas,
and that near-forgotten memories
of Arizona's desert revisit my dreams,
like a pocket mouse with cheek pouches
turgid with seeds after a night’s work.
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