small, red SUV

waits in the neighbor’s drive

hungry for fuel

and the open road

in the deepness of her winter

she hungered for the sweetness

of a juicy, summer peach

the clanking jangle

of emptied feeders—

late winter’s roar & fury

shuffling through the words

sorting what’s useful, what’s fun

something only a poet understands

spring, briefly on hold

cell-phone alert:

winter weather advisory

rain shadows

what little light

is left to give

thus begins a snap in our step—

though still breezy and chill,

we march now toward spring