neptune #1 watercolor by Nellyda Anslow
migration (spring of heart)
in march you wake up
it is still cold
but on certain days sunlight
comes in through tall old glass,
hits the bed and warms.
you nap, you wake
again. you build fires.
you explore mountains alone
on foot, in hail and in wind
preparing for a future
april. one day, finally, you hear
the distant bird orchestra
of Canadian Geese migrating north
like all creatures are responding
to their own neurobiology,
know when the earth on its axis
has leaned a certain way again and when
it is time to go home
in may you are running
perhaps your own neurobiology directing
an unseen X
(your animal) has been sedated by humanity.
you continue to watch things grow
Grey Whales and their kin swim north
past your tiny village:
even they know where to go.
by june Swainson's Thrush has returned
filling the sky with tiny crescendos
especially in the morning
when all is still
even you are still
except for that one impulse:
get up. strip the bed now
remove the scent and memories of spring
lovers who have moved on.
try in vain to erase the memory