[a spring poem I wrote in 2008]


In the woods I pick up an empty nest:
perfectly round, horse and dog hair

laced with slender dry grass stems
the centre trailing a jumper’s flakes

of old green wool. I think
of the return of snakes.

Nest in hand, no bird in bush
I whistle my dog back around

from his foray, start moving
across the boggy ground

and almost tread on a copperhead.
Heart jolt, breath suck, kicked arse

as the long shadow glistens
blackly and slides into grass.

Coming back the season’s first Jezebel
is flitting her gaudiness between

the mismatched androgyny
of two trees: Israeli Anna’s

pink apple blossoms
and the fat yellow pistons

of the sunshine wattle.
Suddenly this spring day nets me

home with nest, snake, apple
resurrected butterfly in a place

back in the wordy beginnings
of my lost and wandering race.


~ by Peter Lach-Newinsky on September 18, 2011.

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